“How many special people change? How many lives are living strange?
Where were you while we were getting high?“
Lazy days of summer, I find myself craving a vodka cooler and a shady tree by a lake, a cold breeze blowing away the humidity. The ability to breathe.
Summer always suffocates me, one way or another. It’s the season I dread, aside from winter, and it is always cruel. I’m a delicate balance within, and the heat boils me over, until I am left barren and thirsty, my throat ashes and tar. I press my feet onto sand, and wince as it scalds. There is no comfort.
But there are scarce moments where it pulls back and away, where I feel my wings ruffle, my lungs expand, and I fill them with soothing tendrils. I close my eyes, and try to remember what the autumn feels like, willing it closer. Every cycle has a beginning, but also an end. Summer is no different.
“Someday you will find me, caught beneath a landslide…“
Day 313: Champagne Supernova – Oasis