Water those seeds with alcohol

I carry that weight so often that I hardly recognize it’s even there. It really just has become a natural part of me that I don’t want to ever have to let go. I had a dream last week about you, that you came and knocked on my door. And it’s those splinters that drag me down to places that are not safe for me to go. I think that in some other time and place, maybe over there – things are how they were planned out to be.

I always wanted to be the exception to my own rules, I told myself that if I screamed loud enough – it would be heard. That if I raged long enough, it would make a difference. I guess yelling down an empty hall that yields only to a voided room, it really doesn’t matter what you are saying, or how you are saying it – it is destined to fail.

And I cut myself in my own ways, every day. Even days when I dilute it with things that are very far from you, as with every one – when you lay down at night you still have to deal with your demons, one on one. This road has led me down are very dark and entangled path, and that path only forgives me in sleep, and occasionally not even then.

I’ll grab my instrument and play, and water those seeds that I carry. It’s just become too hollow for me right now. And it’s been so long, and as they say – so long.

…good morning chapter 3, i fully understand that you have no other desire but to pin me down into nothingness.

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