“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