354.

They are focused on
distant horizons while I
remain locked in dreams.

353.

Too often I am
seduced by melancholy
instead of people.

352.

Every time you speak
of love, my heart's anchor drops
clear through my stomach.

351.

She tilts her face up,
eternal coquette that just
reads as desperate.

350.

That damp grasp, reaching
out from the dark to grasp my
flesh makes my soul crawl.

349.

My pale flesh, dressed in
the tender vision of a
long-held neurosis.

348.

Drifting along a
hollow-eyed future dream that
mirrors a drug haze.