Monday, March 23, 2015
I just want a warm day to sit under a tree with my dog, jasper. I want to sit there and be warm and loved. I want to look at clouds turning pink with softened light with no expectations of any more. I want not to hope or fear some dissolution. Not worry about flesh or oil not feel acid running though my veins telling me to run. Not want or scheme anymore. Not even memory to feel the loss or have any imagination of cost. Only a soft seldom wind and a broken lust for me. Fur for my fingers a lap for my face love again eternal.