I need AIR.

A fluid motion of cool crisp air to

whisk through my lungs.

There is a search. A scramble;

a sprint towards salvation, a crawl back to self.

And on the horizon is the possiblity

of hope. The future at the center of the sun.

Bright and ever-glowing. With the promise

only good throughout the day. The girl hides

in the night. Under a blanket of smoke and

clouded thoughts. Her judgement: Questionable.

Look up