5.24.16

I dream in a box. Though none of them are mine. The spell dips into a pool of water. There are too many unavailable bathrooms. Audrey had a doppelganger nearly half her size, vertically. I dream of man thin women, in almost 2D. 

Michael stared in the woman's eyes who confessed of her love for the cold and outdoors; he danced with her and sand, stared longingly at her, and then looked over at me. I rushed into the adjacent dark doom, crying, shunning myself. 

That Michael wasn't him. That Michael wasn't him. That Michael wasn't him. That Michael wasn't him.