Thin Lines and Hard Voices

It's late after Christmas, finally. This year, this year, begins its final days. I have this breath that I've been holding that begins to loose its hold and the blood in my veins thaws.

In all of this upheaval I have come to know a few things. Light casts shadows and dancing is like screaming into the wind. I begin to feel parts of me that want no light, parts that long I remain in shadow. These parts feed the animal in me.

Inhale the crisp air the smell of snow the cold, and I smell the stars.