The earth grows fangs. Sharp edges reach out to me with open arms. I am not forgiven, but I’m also not sorry. These things bleed together like the lines of the receipt that smeared in the rain as you spent too much money on liquor. I’m mostly unwell, but the night sky is poking holes through heaven to give me a glimpse of what I’m missing out on. The specs of light scream softness through the yearning spaces I’ve kept desolate for too long. I hear lullabies from the voices of angels who are still people and will not be spoken about as if they aren’t here. They’re very much here. They’re very much awake. They’re very much living and being and breaking through the chaos we call this earth. Our world is so small in the scheme of it, you know this, right ? Tell me you feel it too. The distance between the stars. Watch it all move gently still.-AMT