strange are my dreams of late, haunted by what may and what will happen sleep is a fitful thing prone to any disruption. I envy those people who can turn away into sleep like a simple switch being turned on. My mind has echoes of flutterings like the caged wings of a trapped bird, pin me down in the tight embrace which soothes even the most panic stricken…… push me into sleep with the force of your will…. these close short days, these long prone cold nights allow us this time to hide within four walls and yet you sleep so beautifully and i am still the last awake and the first to feel the weak dribble of dawn across my eyelids….
im tired of being too much…… of feeling too much hearing too much ….. What is life if not lived at the extremity…. to feel is to know one is alive…. so many are the walking dead vicariously pulling the wings off dead butterflies and stubbing out their useless pointlessness in a vicseral act of extinction…… here i am because you are no longer…. i linger in the stench of your death. I dream of acceptance, the sort that allows true unbound beauty to grow and yeild its fruitful delights….. but i know this is not my path. I am a nomad and as such destined to be alone…. for the thrill of movement allows me the freedom to step outside the boundaries propriety gives me….. I so dream of freedom but it is and cannot be an isolated sort of freedom… i cannot turn my face from the world so completely, so cold shoulderedly…. there must be a communal redemption…. for me to find peace others must do so too… even if it catches them unawares…!
