everything is full of gods

i was going to write this morning, stirring from a hangover, drinking from my sweater, feverishly cured. it is cold and grey outside, which sometimes makes me feel better. it feels quiet, and when the rest of the world is quiet, i feel okay in stopping. i can pull my sleeves up over my hands and just smile. it feels like blankets are draped through the air, keeping me safe, keeping me quiet.

but, i am stirred. I was always claiming this year as my animus. I can't provide its fingerprints, but I know it is there. I have waited to move. I took my notebook, my weapon against a violent world, and I created this. these are my colours, and my name. these are my fireworks, shot into the festival night. I've murdered every evening for a voice. I believe i can create one smile, for someone like you, all matted in expectation. when we just want to float, and finding greatness in that.

this one code, this one sunday. I am moving, and I have been moved.