Standing on the edge of the fog
The chill
The air thins and I think
I can breathe better now
But the pain it brings
Who lost the game?
Don’t know what I heard just relaying.
My shoulder bag interferes with the joint no one can see
Clothing hurts
Better to be naked
Naked and painless and free
Wouldn’t that be lovely
Why is some skin more or less shameful?
It’s not like seven billion other people all have the same skin
Except it is so why?
I don’t know but the fog conceals my voice and I feel it rolling it’s been whispering since morning
Filling the shore with sleepy ocean conscious
Sweeping the land with salt shed yawning
Crisping the dew with misty fingertips
It’s fall
When do the storms start?
Elucidating Questions 
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