In the Morning

A mad disease pulls through my systems, bringing mayhem and fire where it goes. I breathe in raspy, heavy breaths and he says my skin is a fever. We walk slowly through an arctic Village, changing our minds at every street corner, but the days are long and we can pretend they are neverending.

It's so hard to know what lies around the bend. It may be spring. It may be another icy gust of wind, waiting patiently to beat you off your feet and keep you buried for months to come.

You walk cautiously towards the crossing. Brace yourself for what comes next.