I wonder and sometimes worry. Herein lie those ponderings with perhaps some editing but still in their truer forms. Whisper as well, though in truth, whispers are just that, rustlings in the wind and nothing more. It is kind to not be alone with one's own whispers.
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Midnight to midnight.
.
.
Not literally. As I lived for the day, worked through to suffering, I die to the night. Such... things... while I do so.
Wear black much? Good night, or whatever happens when I get to this point and then close my eyes.
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