Sometimes I test people. I lead them to the edge of a cliff overlooking a valley of misshapen language and overgrown abstractions. I want them to come with me, to jump with me. Because there is something down there I want to show them. But they won't come. They won't jump. And I guess I can't blame them. Look what it's done to me.
And here is another weekend, another solo dive into dusky evening of red wine and another untethered breath hitting the wall.
Good night, dear imaginary reader.