12.5.13
I walk by my old apartment.
The fog is white and quiet,
the world ends very close.
When you have a body
that's stuck in the past,
life is like that.
Rain without rain.
The road looks wet,
but no puddles.
Survive, Madeleine.
I keep writing about that.
It will not always be like this.
Lifeline, that's called.
I hook my body to it.
I say please.
