Sublime and heavy, like a frozen river, like if bed would’ve taken the good dreams from me, and the kitchen called me with it’s finger.
I want to know what’s happening in my head, but pages go by so fast that I can not read. The book closes and I want it to never say end.
Vibrates the water from the thermos that yesterday I thawed in order to revive my mind. Maybe a herbal tea could do me well. Maybe, only sometimes it happens and you can’t stop at the page you want to read. It’s basic to understand that not always, that the solution is not always going to be there, and the solution should be myself.
I’m like an ice but I already got out of the fridge. I’m willing to melt down… again.