𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬

Cessation of gravity in betwixt the fornication of daydreams. Seamless stitchings of admirable desires profusely sweating from my pores. Shaking hands commanding my senses feverously, ferociously. A vicious lingering, a scratch. Immeasurable pleasurable filaments in time woven with persistent patience.  Soft sighs. Gracious moans.  The pinnacle of perfection.  𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑒

  When?  When did it rain? The thought creeps inside my head like the rain I somehow missed. The enigmatic progression of contemplative reasoning. Trapped in a fervor dream where the nightmares practice repetition. A yearn for the life stolen from who I was supposed to be. Fortunate passerby's blindly unaware of the chaos surrounding them. To be seen by the sighted and heard by the unheard. I realize in these moments of understanding how precious living can be - how living should be.  I'll be here, waiting for the rain// 

Anybody Else But Me   When I think about who I want to be, who I want to see when I look at myself the question remains a constant conflict. Even throughout the chaos of existence I try to ascertain a hopeful outlook on this decrepit world but it is not an easy task.  I ask again...  Who do I want to be?  Better yet, who do YOU want to be?  Someone similar to yourself but perhaps a few minor changes, or major ones. Someone completely different, dissimilar, unusual even. When I think about this question my mind races with all the possibilities. You can be anything you want if you put your mind to it, right? Yeah, right. With what money? With what time machine? With what hand of God?  I wish I were someone else sometimes. Being so hated and so relentlessly targeted. Being the kind of person nobody encourages or helps unless it's absolutely necessary. The kind of person people want to steal from, lie about, and destroy.  Sometimes I'd rather be ordinary i...