The more things change…
The morning fog clears, leaving a gray afternoon like all the others.
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Ground clouds and soup
The morning fog clears leaving a gray afternoon like all the others.
The sky is falling
The gray skies outside – I can feel their weight. Strangely it’s not a burden.
But I held on to you…
Pulled under the sea, reaching for a purchase by grasping at the moon.
Just another day in paradise
Frustration, loss, hope, and confusion observed while “empty” hours pass.
It’s go time.
Chomping at the bit, stamping hooves, whinnying, and shaking the bridle.
By sun and sand, of metal and wood
Creaking and moaning, advancing a finger’s breadth: idly maddening.
New-age Robitussin
“An apple a day” is a cure for what ails you? I prefer sick days.
Holding the key
Trapped in my own head, taunted by wraiths and wights, saved by small kindnesses.
Ho! Ho! Hehe!
Rushing around at the last minute doing work and planning mischief.
A (wise) man of two faces 