now.

an unfolding of the pages
deep as a ravens wing
you dyed your hair black
to match your heartstrings


curiously... i keep hearing a downpour of rain hitting the rafts above the living room ceiling, but when i turn to look out the window, i see nothing but gray skies and dry asphalt.
what happens when you project too much?
anticipate.
does it actually come true, or do you become victim to your own fears...
locking yourself in a room with one door wide open.