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And who can say what dreams are
Wake me in time to be lonely and sad
Who could say what we are
This is the season for dreaming

– Spring Awakening, The Guilty Ones

von feeshseagullmine auf deviantart

Where does that warm and fuzzy feeling inside my chest come from?

Did someone put it in there?
Or had it been there all the time,
buried beneath stones and glass?

Be ready to entombed again

 Is that what being home feels like?

So many questions

go without answers in my head.

Falling, fast, a long way down

until I hit the ground

feathers    or    spikes?