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Dreams I How sad a good dream can be. I saw you there once, you know. Just to wake & realize you were a good dream away. I mean, even the nightmares aren’t that cruel.
An image in the darkness, a silhouette a face walking slowly, walking surely, make sound without a trace rumbled lowly as a pulse, as a heart beat of a drum, with an echo hollow ringing, and the panting breath undone.
I am a bird meant for flight,Beautiful plumage and a mind to the right.I am fed lies of fame and money,I am the bird of milk and honey.I want to act and I want to sing,But maybe "lawyering" is your thing.
another wave of nostalgia that i’m drowning under, which makes me wonder if i ever grew up outside of height, because i might be stuck in the same situation; jammed seatbelt.