these endless numbered days.

Winter is running away through the gutters, melting off the streets and running to the sea.

Faster and faster, don't stop walking. Sunshine in my eyes, skipping class to find an answer to the question I cannot form. Lost in a sea of words and I forget, hiding within myself and losing focus in the blur. One idea stacked atop another, the pile so high it blocks the sun and slowly, the ideas melt into each other and drip into the carpet, lost in the grain.

Step by step and my eyes are caught in the scenery, strangled in the tangled knot of bushes as my feet force me along, a parabola of pain. Fascinated by details and blurring over the ideas. Silent, don't make me speak.

Oblivion in spurts, dissecting my oblivion.