the flame i tend to, hoping you’d stop by.

memories have bested Father Time and rooted into place. they form like trees in the soil of our minds; with branches reaching for attention, and fruit to keep us feeling full.
the wisest leave without warning, from what the tree of past can provide. or be the dissected Mouse, the man buried alive. for under the shade of the tree, remain the endless that die.



I made a twitter. It’s lame but I feel like I should get into it before I leave for the peace corps. @seasonalStrain


P.S. Thanks Maggie Brown for being the only person who ever follows me on anything.. Much love.