Give me a boat to climb into. I want to sail into deep dreams, dip my toes in limbo and swim while floating in silence. Chaos has recruited a swarm of gnats so thick even the air is choking and I can no longer see, but the colors are amazing so I sit watching anyway. Maybe I can become a droplet in their mist, a creature living as an illusionary cloud. It hits me that this is already so.
Two more weeks and I'm out. Fucking out. Toying with dropping everything for a month and just roaming, letting the Earth lick my wounds clean while I hide and heal in the folds of the road. Let direction have her way with me. My teeth will surly crack soon if I keep faking this facade, and the masquerade I've been dancing at for years is getting old. Or maybe it's just my knees suddenly pulling my leg, begging for it's bruises and cuts to be kissed. Blood is no substitute for soap, and all I want is the sweet silence to wring my soul out.
Please....I just want some fucking truth.
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