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Lets go back to the time when waiting was an art and everything in between now and then was the main story and not otherwise. Lets learn the value of spaces and remember its necessity especially in moments desperate for punctuation. Boredom is mold on old toast (once upon a time you set it aside and promised you'd fulfill its purpose). We, naturally flawed and ever the work-in-progress, confusing the words FLOW and FOLLOW believing they're interchangeable, making a big mess whenever we can, utilizing our ignorance. It is because of this that I am generously yearning. Or, my yearning is abundant and it pulls on my hair, my memory, my patience. I say, the moon is to blame. and I know the blame is useless.

I sit and cradle my arms. Mothering in silence.