it's not actually what i want

i opened my window in time for the rain to stop and my disappointment was immediately met
with the urge to be somewhere else. even if i am the first to preach against it, i sometimes rationalize that just a day or one hundred miles would fix everything that seems to be out of whack in my chest.

that kind of perfection only lives inside black and white televisions



and as far as i'm concerned, the color is worth all the malady of occasional unrest.