This is what you do

This is what I wrote, sleep deprived and buzzing drunk on unexpected conversation like a flower opening in the dead of night.

Rebirth at Interfusion Festival.



Paradigm shift.  Pandora’s box… gah I thought I burned that thing but it’s back under the bed. Cardboard and mothballs, what’s in your attic?  There are deep inabilities, the things you ignore that learn to control you.  First instinct is to run and I think I took it too hard when you told me I need to learn how to live in the dust instead.  I don’t even own a mirror, you feel me?

Said I have a dark heart and I want to drown that out.  The heart and your voice about it (please tell me this is not who I am, too many people telling me what I want to hear- I got complacent, yeah you caught me)

Might be cleaning season.  We’ll see.


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