One More Tired Thing, The Grey Moon On The Rise

There is snow on the ground now. And there are less stubbed cigarettes littered around my white boots where i stand with my coffee, outside the grey university buildings. Strangely, the coldness of winter soon approaching has initiated a convulsive heat through my body and flickers of vitriolic discomfort rising in my rib cage and into my breaths. i am choler, in black mittens and a young girl's old dress-up jacket. i bite my lip hard, just like i can feel my hands crack to bleed into the dry air and the floating flurries.

...

i have been baking a lot. Baking is like doing an experiment in the lab, except more delicious. And usually, the results are tangibly better.