tonight things are more fragile than i remember them, and i feel softer in the scenery as it moves out my window. i have picked up things i've been putting down, i have forgotten the names i forgot to give them. i am moving too quickly, too drastic and slow, through all of these days and i cannot find a free space to place my feet, not amongst the jumble down there. we are thick, all of us, with each other, a thick mass of breathing. and sometimes, in the overlap, we breath out together. but sometimes, like today, i feel like there isn't any oxygen left, like i am left with just a bone to gnaw on, and i don't like the taste.