i'm watching the water dry around my hands. the moisture on my skin tickles as seasons define themselves. the students are faltering. we don't know the difference between walking and wandering anymore. what do you do when you've cut yourself away?
you're so direct, i need your control as a happiness. it's when you're not here that i realize i'm no scientist. i have no logical conclusions for the way this is. we are the philosophy of universes, silk with pleasure. it would take 80 moons melted down to make one Earth. i'm tired of making myself your satellite. it's a quiet sea without your silent curving body.
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