Last night, I found madness between a blanket and my floor while listening to the impossible sound of shivering from the cold of a broken, house furnace and curling next to a small, space heater. A comforting madness. One I could almost lay still to. From the quaking of my own body, brought restless, beautifully untamed, and incomplete thoughts. The kind of thoughts I would not mind whispering if the right person were ever there to listen. Sometimes it’s better on the floor.