the compulsion in my bones has me doing things i normally would do, but with a lot less thought. the thoughts i would usually conjure up in times like this have all been spent on gloomier days, and somehow the heat has found me within the chill of these wintery days and has caught my step, blinding my eyes, i am so happy in my nativity, you think i was baby Jesus in a manger. drinking to pass the time, this company is so great, so shiny and glassy. you with your beautiful cork has me pulling for reaction. warmth, in the crazy of cups. eyes chilled and serving questions.. pull the sheets over my head, i am waking with the urge to stay in bed and read. i really would rather escape and play in these powerful pages of places and people and their lives and their problems and silently draw relief in the mix matched tales that all seem to have been written with pieces of me in mind.