10/27

I want to fold my thoughts over and over, collecting them in envelopes to send off. 

Maybe this happens naturally, I just feel it's peering. Its slow raise back up, and I wish to keep it down. Press my fingers to each unraveled thought, each moment in time. I want to keep it, and hold it in my warm mouth. Let it water down and digest. I want this goodness to enter my blood, and raise my body temperature. I want to love everyone I meet. I want to hold the world. I want to hold the door open for people who I do not agree with. Laying on a rug, with my cheek pressed to it, I want tell a stranger how I do not talk to you anymore. You, who sits in San Diego, in St. Paul, in Battle Creek, in Kalamazoo, in Minneapolis, in your house and in agony. You, who I hope takes better care now than you took then. I hope a moth is able to land on you, and while you can stare at the light, become encapsulated, too.