As old men in our mid-twenties, let's be rebellious, let's stay up past ten, let's put down the good ol' book we can't get away from, and denounce sleepy eyes. We'll give it up to reading outside the lines of our circumpolar stars, page-fold the space in-between and hold it out 'til dawn. Don't breathe here! Just wait... for the august of another sunrise.
Goodbye: It's something beyond this life, something they all say takes time, but the fall knows this dark soul by name and illusions of the past insidiously circle back so many times before we die.
Premiering last night on the under side of closed eyelids: All senses turning omnidirectional, running parallel to waking minds. Did it say the time is coming? Did it say you've reached familiar ground?
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