Process

As I sit here with responsibilities mounting, time slipping, and enthusiasm temporarily dipping, the last thing I should be technically doing is writing in this white space ahead of me. But, I've committed. A few lines is all we ever need.

Love,
Process

pppsssshhhhhhhh.

the noise of the sprinkler was a comfort
white noise, white noise
drowning 
drowsy
youth

codex.

just to see what is
i entered through the blinded back window
but to my surprise, in the remaining darkness
nothing but empty white space exists
why?