Departure

my heart has a wish that you would not go.

tea, instead of wine; incense, instead of weed. 7am and the black has turned to gray, the chicago ceiling hanging low and thick, impenetrable. the ground and rooftops are covered in the same uniform white, except where dog tracks crisscross. even the fences, the paint on the houses, all looks washed out. in the winter, the city turns to black and white, and infinite shades of gray.

when the night has been long and sad, and the dawn brings no sun, exhaustion multiplies. sleep comes easy, long, and deep; sleep like heroin, carried away, bouyed by fleeting illusions of fulfillment.

when all relevance is transient, a minute within your own mind is like unto a year without, and the days without slip past unmarked unchecked unnoticed unchanging...

close your mouth. disable output, enable input.

turn on the stereo, experience something new. this is fading away.

this is a soundtrack to a slow departure.