Warm sheets don't always breed pretty dreams.Yet one has to brush off night's ghouls and carry on this existence as a functional and caring individual.Or pretend to do so,at least...My soles don't know these roads-this doesn't mean they don't have a story of their own,a tingling perfume,faces to paint and miracles to create.Change doesn't suit me,but routine isn't my thing either!Oh,what a cruel tease!You know,I used to think books and coffee and dreams could safe me for real-now I'm not that sure...It's something else,though.I just need to find out what.Release myself from this wretched flesh and too many vapid thoughts,regain the infinity which I have carved into my left wrist.Acknowledging my achievements won't do the trick.Neither will a "hidden talent".No,I need...I need a lightning strike.A bomb.An anvil crumbling on top of my head to make it all true.I need to learn how to be one person at a time.Winter's coming and there's too much darkness to uncover.Fortunately,my boots are new and ready for...something.A nice something,I hope.Till then,I'll hang on to my green sweater and shred of sanity.Someday,somehow,things will settle down.There will be light.
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But you can't be one person at a time, perhaps one mask at a time... else, you're stuck with what you are and sometimes it can get pretty messy...
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