22 January 10 2:45:33 pm

i walk this cold quiet like it’s dead skin. cautious. observant. this path is worn before me, behind me. there was life coursing through here once. i smell the sweet stink of it. the pungent urgency of human need hangs long. now though there are only strings of white frost, the crack and thrum of winter river, and the hollow lost echo of my own footsteps. i am wedged uncomfortable between the dead and the dying.