#smallbluething

It’s 4pm and I slept through an eternety of grey skies, and only the small blue ache of the colder season sleeps with me. It’s a small blue melancholia, spooning me under a few very thin blankets, runs it’s fingers through my spiky hair on my shaved head. 

stay here, in bed.

practise, to become a better human, a modest spirit of some sort,

a curled up little dog under the dinnertable of an unhappy family at a scumfuck beach resort. 

lay here, under the table.

and listen to evereyone’s void little stories, while the only thing that really matters to you is chasing a bird at the beach whilst your paws get wet from salty water.

run here, at the beach.