I am constantly obsessing over those rare beams of sunlight
daydreaming of that time when they actually beheld a strong warmth about them.
Warm is when there are wrapped arms around your shoulders or toes tucked snugly between thick legs.
Warm isn't that bleak, frigid and enduring winter of bone chills, remembering the times we tripped with our grocery bags, spewing the contents and forgetting our worth
Embarrassment keeps our routines interesting and adventures let our spirits wander
But how can we escape from the clutches of technology chains and remember the nature of colors found outside our cells?
Why isn't there a positive energy?
Instead of a dead interior controlled by the amount of sunshine one needs to succeed.
I know I need it, with all this constant daydreaming
I find that three+ years is enough to know what I know
Twenty three years of waiting for the right moments to capture your positive energy
Keep each other warm because six more weeks are to come, six more weeks of iconic white powdered sugar
White substance, white clouds, white remains, white, stark, frigid, icy flesh. Fake winter.
-bw
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