2002-02-02 - 10:08 a.m.
Foggy morning.
Depressing denseness in the air,
But the birds still sing.
The light drizzle a gentle remnant of last night's lightning storm.
The sky was lit a bright cobalt blue
As I drove anxiouisly along the freeway.
I felt small and vulnerable in the car,
Almost as if the sky, in its wrath,
Could come down upon me and swallow us whole.
I lay in bed,
Manically tired, eyes wide open.
I pondered over switching the mobile off,
I didn't think he'd call.
It seems I'm doing the right thing,
I don't have a fucking clue really.
I think I might need the sun to make me smile.
