The red light sits forever on top of the wire. I have grown used to waiting. I have grown tired of expecting the dam in my mouth to burst. Recently I have been emerged in a fever of longing. I have decided to wade a bit longer in it.

This is not an unusual mood for me, but it is accompanied by a weariness that I can not shake. I think I am flotaing in something different now. Before, love was viscous and obtuse.

But now... I don’t know, I think.