#cartop...you know? like rooftop

[kin-n-n]

It comes from all the withered places I leave out in the sun and don't remember

The plants I forget to water and the dried up patches of emotions on my soul

Find it in the evening shadows cowering and hiding, somewhere between the first shimmer of dawn and the furious plinking of hail on cartops

The indistinct whisper and slither of voices from the living room just so hearable through two doors