Ominous exhaustion berates my breath. Mulling my senses. I hopelessly, hope for warmth, breath, purpose and embraces. A touch free family engorged with the timeless, unfaced echoes of brown trauma.
Solace lies, whimpering in the willowed, white forest. Attempting to bellow louder from afar, a feint lovers cry gripping at a distant, wanted hug.
Mull, mull, mull; mulled warmth, mulled frenzy, mulled exhaustion and mulled confusion.
Breathe, breathe, breathe; breathe warmth, breathe frenzy, breathe exhaustion and breathe confusion.
Stop, stop, stop; stop pleas the feint cry…
Musing Bumbles 