Flying birds, setting sun, the ocean in between and the cold air that breaks all seven. I hate that phrase, measuring my life by coffee spoons, the love song. It's in between because I can't find how to quantify it to normal terms in which would bring it through Earth's atmosphere and sky. The sky is searing red and the devils in hell are gleaming with blood. The prosecuted are no longer guilty but found innocent with time and repentance. Through faith in anything, everything is possible. If we lose faith, we lose sight. I think I'm going on a date soon. On that same subject, what counts as a date, and what doesn't? Because it's going to happen, I just don't know if it's a date or not. Then again, I don't know why it really matters in the long run.