The Heron

You'll never be alone again, my love.

Can you feel it?

The balance between stillness and dancing till you fall off the earth. Take to your toes and summon the worms.

The heron waits patiently, unfazed by self-service checkouts or pouches of tobacco.

I know falling in love feels trivial with everything that's going on, but what if we're actually onto something?

-And then the heron says. . . -You'll never be alone again, my love.

You'll never be alone again, my love.

Can you feel it? Calling into work haunted. Lost in a vertical video called

Moments Before Disaster Part Four. Stop trying to stop trying so hard.

Your personality has been broken apart and sold back to you in a series of short-form clips. The horrors persist, but you are that same child jumping garden to garden.

Ice cream dripping between your knuckles. And then the heron says. . .

You'll never be alone again, my love.

-You'll never be alone again, my love.

-And then the heron -says. . . -You'll never be alone.

You'll never be alone again, my love.

Rare aesthetic, reluctant hope core memories operating on a strict one in one out policy.

The young and the dying have the worst philosophies, and you are both, but also neither. Nay cheek, nay chance.

Never leave the bookies with a smile on your face, and remember that herons wait for no one but themselves.

Good things come to those who hesitate. And then the heron says. . .

You'll never be alone.

And you gotta be patient.

Be still.

At peace.

-Yeah. And then the heron says. . .

-You'll never be alone again, my love.

You'll never be alone again, -my love. -And then the heron says. . .

You'll never be alone.

-And then the heron says. . . -You'll never be alone again, my love.