petrichor: i’m tired of being blind.

nan grey
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

I dreamed but cannot remember it. My eyes feel soft this morning and as clumsy as my fingers dropping words on the keyboard like leaves in a dry season. My body craves metaphorical rain. Something to clean my gutters and streets of dead things and wasted paper. On my closed body, the debris is noticeable. This is where nobody touches me. My heart is buried. It craves some kindness to fall from the sky and wipe my spirit of disarray. Wash my buildings of ashes, rinse these sixfold shaded windows.

Ryan and I are going for breakfast. Given my schedule, I assume that I’ll return home late Sunday night.