perhaps some things inside me were killed for good. from the first stroke i have been delirious and intoxicated with expression. tonight is it's opposite, it's wretched caress. perhaps i am tired of no sleep and poltergeists. or this long spell without really writing anything. of wanting so much to learn things but never choosing individual things, giving them all my efforts. the curse of being so set in my ways. perhaps it's charlie and friends. the past few nights i have been marvelling at how happy and full i am.
i think the sound of another sleeping is the greatest in the world. liar.
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