#t.f.

"How are you feeling?" Lost. Like I don't know myself. Like I should walk to the shoreline, lay down, and wait for the tide to take me out. -t.f.

Since the day you left, I haven’t written a single word. My fingers are numbed by the touch  of your ghost. I guess you inspired [consumed] me. I still look for you everywhere I go || t.f.

Finally, I feel them -- the first signs of breaking -- my ribs, unhinging, your shoulders, bending away; familiarity caught under my sternum. I wonder if you have already begun to let go of me.  - t.f.

                    I beg you to spend your time                            battling the mundane, dull and static days.                                 There is no life if you                           do not find a way.                                      - t.f.