clouds look good from down here.

there is a castle in the sky built just big enough for one and its ego, alone.

built you up, brick upon brick, and i'll tear you down just the same, slowly and with some lost sense of urgency. no one is left to point it out. not a soul has come back from awful places to hold guard at the gates.

we are not our parents' children, and we hold no superstition. we have lost that solid ground. you've burnt off most of my face, whatever i had left.

we both wanted him back.

instead, i ate my dinner alone.

instead, you drew some terribly metaphorical sword.

instead, we became less than civil, more than war.