Sunday, February 22, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
I might not know how to begin or how anything ends, but
there is something in my mind that beckons to be recognized. Something I have
always known, yet do not yet know. I have shook hands with the consciousness
that will drive even the most collected of us to bite the ripened succulent
fruit of insanity. Dreams deceive such a delicate realness and beads of sweat
stamp a puny defeat so with the most insulting and graceful drip to demise.
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