i've know you all summer and you rose above it all

the heat hangs off of everything here right now.

it feels like forty pounds on my chest, compounded by a summer cold that i refuse to admit to having and seven days of work without stopping.

at half two this afternoon, peter turned to me in the quiet of lanark and stated that he had a strange and building desire to do violence. when i finally recovered from the fit of laughter i succumbed to, i agreed. this weather, this town, it's all building toward something. the tension is almost too much to bear, pulled so taut.

this heat, it makes strange things happen.

maybe it'll rain?