Comfortable in our heaviness it becomes the shade we depend on – the meaning in a world that doesn’t flow with our fantasy, our only reality being the fact that we can’t breathe, can’t form the words to understand the reason for our neediness –

– attachment – familial –

– but I walk her lines because they’re beautiful – to see the world as she lays it out, to play the game as she laughs out loud, to caress her name with a sin tinged growl –

– hand in hand, or locked in step, doesn’t really matter when we’re flowing in each other’s breath – only fools want more than everything, and this indeed is everything.

 

 

Painting our illusions in 108 words a day.

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