i'm a softened agnostic with no firm belief in anything much 'after'. is this why time weighs so heavy in my pockets like a dozen grandfather clocks? but my mind is always ever so lighthearted as it lays with yours and i'm sorry i can be so headstrong. my thoughts will burn your shadow in these bed sheets like the hiroshima blast in a macabre memory of everything lovely. i will go back to them from time to time like those little white shacks built for irishmen lost at sea, stocked with crackers and water, to feed until found again.
