06 October 2006


I find myself between the train tracks where they run straight. The night envelops me, devours me in its cold bronzed air, pulling the hairs on my neck straight up. Taking off my shirt, I succumb to the chill, because you shouldn't fight it. No matter how hard you fight, the world will have its way. So as much as I can fight the tears back, I can't battle the breeze or the weathering of my skin, the wrinkles under my eyes, or the pull of gravity on my body. Much like I can fight the weight of my eyelids, but eventually they will close for at least an hour or so.

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