but i can't quite give that to him yet, it's unfinished. all i want to do is make paper feather packets for everyone.
one at a time, peter.
last night i was laying in bed feeling very awake i wanted most to crawl into a cold attick, and write.
two cars in a row passed by and their lights made patterns on my walls,
through my windows and they would coast over the cieling. the stars i strung up were out of reach, they must have been hiding from it, i didn't realize at first. at first i found it kind but after very few moments it became glum. my heart felt water logged, it just grew heavy and it feels heavy now.
i don't quite know,
i don't quite know. to be honest, i may have forgotten.
if i had gotten up and written it down, here it would be.
maybe my stars were sorrowed by the square light as well.
sorry,
regards.