Holidazed

I've fallen in love with the world again.
It's so fucking beautiful and so wrong, how can it can contain itself?

The soggy gray light is dripping on the incarcerated aluminum holiday bows. They are dying together in the cold winter air of San Francisco.

An origami man is folding into himself on the corner. He can't retain his shape as he rocks slowly, back and forth. The haphazard clumps of his brown hair match the desperation in his eyes - they are flying in all directions, together.