I sit at home.
All alone...

The sun blitzing down her back in a cloud of...
how I wish I could run my hand through her hair...

Even the earth, so rigid, can move.
Even air, so devoid, can be filled...

I see her walking,
she keeps on talking...

My thoughts in my head,
screaming, writhing, pleading to get out...

Fear of spiders.
Fear of loss...

When fools rush in--
when a man marches against the odds...

The clouds gather,
the darkness surrounds...