Icarus's blog: "Just South of Blue."

I left a note on the mirror, and shuffled my feet through debris.

I dunno who I was then.

Seems to happen once a year.
Some big
thing
an event

And I'm left a stranger.
Hardened, hate-filled, and desperate.

Makes me want to promise some blood-signed vow of pacifism and piety, but it was bled out of me.
No doubt. No Hesitation.

A clarity in rational vindictive action.
Like sorting a closet of stiff wounds and numb scars.

This box is for taking.
This pile is for burning.

This we leave as a warning.