sometimes in my mind, everything spirals, and my eyes see backwards. there is this opening in my throat that invite's lucid dreaming, and for days i could go in my mind, endless revolutions. a tight, pounding action reoccurs when i forget to speak. all these tiny things are dangerous in my head, spinning for hours. i have build up illusions that memory will wipe us clean, and in the beginning we will remain, another part of ourselves. these dimensions are running thin, and for this i will be grateful; that i belong here.
No comments:
Post a Comment