creaturecomforts

it's pure devastation; the urge to start wildfires in the mind and let it all keep burning. always just enough to keep my hands warm, i suppose. winters are a repetitive pattern of heartache, soulchange, running and hiding. another blow to tightly kept optimism. the cyclic; creation .. destruction. i'll let the fire burn out and watch, and wait for the solace in a sprig of green.