You could be at ease.

There is always this feeling of neglect; the riled-up emotions that confuse; the silence unbreaking, unnerving. All of these have to be duly pushed aside in order to attend to this very thing many bravely called “life”. Like clockwork, rotate, rinse and repeat: routines that bore the senses out of your thick skull, leaving the little corners of your brain collecting dust, unused and unwanted.

Waiting for your move now. I would dial nine-one-one and it still would not reach you. Dancing at the precarious edges of this dangerous game, we have been at it for so long. Random colours in the watery sky shimmer, fine particles in the electric air glitter, paving the way to a new day.

The aftermath. It is a funny thing to have to write this today, but I truly do like it there more than here. The stars, they do not shine as brightly as they do there. My heart, did I bring it back here with me?