The smell of old wood,
our shoes would mark the hallways
and we dont have any concept of time
outside this place
Orwellian at best, but we're safe.
The sun hits the pane of the bus' window of my soft disdain
The homeliness of my subdued ennui
With the Blue Ridge slowly scrolling through the frame
What I would give to break my heart in those circumstances.
released April 30, 2013
all rights reserved