:turn to the vices

All clouds are connected. Elevated veins of water fixed in the sky. Placed & poised. Carried by night. Drifting through days.

A humid sweat breaks in time as turning wheels draw us towards the storm. Dry ice on the road disguises cars in front. We carry on with caution. We carry on.

Conversations with wet hair see tempers tried & tested. Taking stock, we break to remember to take only the things that we need. The job at hand calls for patience, it’s the best skill I can hand you. It’s what I can give.

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