Icarus's blog: "Augurs, Martyrs, and Agnostics"

Stranger in origin, riding warped vinyl.
Crackling unenthusiastic against the needle.
My head in my hands.
My hopes locked in the attic.

Perhaps intact.

Playthings from innocence.
No place in you.
Adjacent, or otherwise.
I had forgot.
So willingly.

All the windows left open.
Hard winter wandered in.

All I had to do was hold on.
Reality.
With waning grip
and that withered, weary heart.
Tepid in my grasp.

Some canker whisp
some foreign blight....
or the truth.

I was never that strong.
I was nothing without you.
A shadow dancing quietly on the wall.
Looking for that first excuse to hang
limp

and with any luck
unnoticed.