log: easy + miles; reunion
A tint more lonesome of late, though never truly alone. Crazy shit he supposed uncoiling around him had heralded in this unbecoming hue of heartsore something. Something really he couldn’t quite press down, nor label. Sometimes it’s like that. He’s downtrodden and he doesn’t know why. There’s a ringlet in him of an undoing, spreading its clover rot, sweet stinking and proliferating. There’s always something sugary about sadness, making it palatable and comforting. He develops an appetite for melancholy. Sooner or later he’s coated in an unidentifiable woe, cowed by the unmoored surprise of its slow advance. When all the while his open chest had been outstretched in the dawning of it, embracing its arrival.
It was nice to see people who are from a place where nobody should turn around in the sneaking dark. The expanse of the night, the graphic isolation of that unanimous chokehold of nothing-wonder, could out-strength any metallic, far from maudlin spine. To look up into the nightsky’s face in a place as finely alone as where they’re from at night is terrifying. He can remember a perfect, blinking map of every constellation the mumbling sidereal of the firmament contains. He can remember seeing others’ reactions to it for the first time, dumbly grinning visitors exiting their idling vehicles. The big eyes, the open mouths. The slow slink back into the barricade of their car. The awe billowing down into an armature of strange fear.
His house is very cleanly. It’s simple, minimal. There are well-cared for plants in nitric gleeful green, furniture in earthy tones. Ludicrous amounts of lonestar. He was smoking outside waiting for Easy to pull up to his house.
A brightblonde bouncing silhouette waits, too. She’s been SO EXCITED to meet so many new people lately!