Grey masses cling to mountains as I close my eyes and revel
in nothing. It’s either heat exhaustion or frostbite in this goddamn valley,
and somehow it always takes me by surprise. If insanity expects different results
from the same conditions, I should have been committed a decade ago. I squeeze
my eyes tighter with each moment, hoping for a revolution: inside my head, or
outside my window. I remember your voice shifting between drunken playfulness, somber
sadness, pleading confusion. Your tears nearly brought me back, frozen with
painful desire, but spiteful reflection shows me otherwise. Take a shot of
bravery and promise me you’ll bring back summer before I open my eyes. Promise
me anything, and I’ll swallow it whole.
