New York makes me feel so seafoam black in the wintertime.

In this climate no matter what you choose you lose.

So I wander the world seeking various forms of warmth and empty spaces.

Here I am.

Who wouldn’t want to escape? Oh the prices one pays to follow a dream.

What would it cost to skip a step, or two?

Leaving memories right where they are when they hurt.

Learning by backtracking like The Almanac.

Now, I’m looking back on moments I couldn’t wait to complete with nostalgia and mental screenshots of how you looked at me. ‘Faded pictures in a broken glass’ or something like it.

Here we are. 

Next to you I sit, breathing in harsh realities exhaling my own interpretations of the truth with glitter sprinkled on top like greatness.

What a rush when you win.

What a rush when you have the opportunity to begin again.

What’s the rush?