oils (redux)

"But then a small wind, a shivering light bulb, an ocean lapping against your tongue. And this sweat, like a bullfrog splayed, and muddy snowflakes, the guts of the day, and fingertips. And you are not entirely okay, because you were just great. And now your thoughts click like a telephone, the heavy kind, a nickel pressed to your forehead, and then removed."

—Ian William L.