Life simultaneously cleared and obscured. Things which I might not want to admit are true. Entering the unknown again, I wait. What, who, where. No path is straight. Inside wretching. Music fills my soul and comes out in tears. Paralysed. Walking, tight and hunched and scared. Myopic now but soon I'll diffuse, scattering myself among peoples and places. I try to keep my chin up.
"Look down at your hands, remember you're dreaming
and make it look how you want it to look,
feel how you want it to feel.
After all, the worlds we know are only made by dreamers."
-from Off the Map
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