Category: Love

this morn­ing my heart is yes­ter­day, for some­time between dark and light, chest and thigh, the imp of Spring began his mis­chief. the world can­not be the same after curios­i­ty and false con­structs (built on foun­da­tions all too phys­i­cal) have opened the mod­ern pan­do­ra’s box of com­pli­ca­tions. that is why i feel like shit. i know i had some­thing to do with it, and swash­buck­ling my way out of this will only make mat­ters worse. i want to recap­ture the lit­tle imp of Spring, but he isn’t so lit­tle any­more. damn my weak­ness. the world is gin­ger scent­ed still, but no longer a par­adise, Hope is stuck under the lid. we can only free her if we work togeth­er.