nightcrawlergen1

Fuck if I don’t feel like I lost my mind a long way aways ago, somewhere far off and nearsided. The way my vision has always seen what was right in front of me, but not always known what it is. Life, is just a day from death and the turns of troped robes that rapped satin and silks to dissipate the contours of body from conciseness in the light of shaded areas, and I never meant to cut corners, but saw how the edges seemed so sharp to incise depth the closer I got to them. Borders that have always lent to me more an eagerness to know and learn where I might place my mind to be left with another and it seems I haven’t always been myself, but do as I can to find myself perhaps amongst my self created beacons. Lighthouses through the fog of my courtesies has masked my grey matter in the wreckage I have swept tight rope on intentions, made a balancing act of my sanity. Splintered the best of me to too many souls seeking segmented solitude into what can be granted. It’s just, the same way as I am scattered is the same I have always been apart of these contacts I have made. The death and life of me begins and ends with the river styx.