guide me through this thicket of sweet fruit and sharp thorns steady my gait lest i fall, as i pass this bramble my skin bears the scratches blood of minor injury while i nourish the succulence of the joy to overcome 9.17.17
day 259
eyes like portholes they gaze outward dark within, craving the visceral affirmation of their worth, scaly in their selfishness, unregretting stench, i watch them slither in retreat. 9.16.17
day 258
each day feels a little more familiar each step a little lighter eyes see clearer like a fog has been wiped off, like rising from a deep slumber and you finally realize you are awake 9.15.17
day 257
today we march back to lives we know each step heavier than the last pulling out of the stupor from stress and inactivity into the buzz of responsibility. 9.14.17
day 256
the days bleed together into one stain without cool to wake us, all feels blurry and soft as tasks pile on and incentive dissipates. 9.13.17
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