Icarus's blog: "Hurts to watch."

Dry bones.
Day old bread.
Crumbling as you reach.
But if you stay under the covers
if you shut your eyes real tight and just
wish
with everything so tense
that all you can feel is your forehead against your knees
forget to breathe
forget to forget
forget to believe
and when it opens up you won't be you.
The smell of damp grass and summer attics returns.
The purple edged black dissolves
back to the noise and lonliness.
One day at a time
comes so damn close.