22/12/2024

0614 AM. slippery corners. i ate the bread and danced for a bit, not because i was dying, but because i was not hungry anymore. dreamscapes are hereditary. instances of me messing up are killing my mind. i am turbulent and i am a repeater. hunger will circle my mind’s corners with nowhere to hold on to. i cannot let my mind free. every sleep is nightmares and every sleep is slight dares. with the rain scratching my ears, i doubt forgiveness has come for me. grey nights are pray nights, for i have not found the means to peace without praying for plain eyes. how can i blame ice for falling when i went there to play nice? this rhyme will have a delay, right? tough crowds are a dread drug and a dead cough brown as it is red looks good on a red rug. having cleaned that, i am off to dreamscapes once more.