As a messy
thinking I practice and provoke digression to make you jerk aside:
As I write in coulds stories you'd only dream to step into twice.
My unpredictable pasts are beyond fragments: a dreamscape of my own invented prose.
Like sleepwalking in a shining fog, I now thrive on tangents and slants, my masonned yellow brick road.
We all have
our principles, but beyond direction I have a life to live.
So I shall
die having lived, but that is all I will do for death.
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