WRITERS BLOCK.

I wish I had words for these photographs,

but I do not. 

My hands were numb.

my socks wet from the waves.

-6°F(uck)

 writer's block/block of ice.

..till the sun comes..

IN THIS APARTMENT

In this apartment,

 we share our lives.

 It is not mine.

 It is not yours.

 It is not ours.

 It is a file in some rich man's cabinet down by the bay;

 but for now, it holds us. 

 Its walls have yet to trap me.

With you here..

 i feel free in this one bedroom

 as if i have rooms upon rooms to discover.

 You are all the rooms,

i've never had.