Follow.

A picture's worth a thousand words

Which, of course, makes it easy.

Sometimes there are no words,

In which case we have to settle

For pictures

Or code

Or

This time, though, come with me.

Come follow me to where I sit

In a hard, wooden chair 

It's the softest place I've been all day.

Before me, ice seeps into dark coffee

Laced with milk and syrup

And the gray dusk of a day that had nowhere to go

Seeps in through the window

I look out at the bent trees and the harsh wind

Behind me, the soft melodies of John Mayer murmur

I'm waiting for tomorrow

To sweep me up again.

Don't think I'm ready

But then again, I never am

Doesn't matter how many times

I sit here, alone with my thoughts and a dismal singing man.