This smell sticks to me and haunts the once planned out thoughts meant to meet something. They never really were allowed their debut, perhaps that is why they continue to trail behind me and occasionally catch up with my waking mind.
There is no hope for the memories that neither fade nor come to present and I am left to their mercy, despite the fact I have been informed that I am in charge of my emotions.
This addiction is so like the fundamental base which bore it all.
As I continue to dream, space begins to lose its permanence, its constant state of open.
But that is not true.
These rhythms continuously march on beat after beat, bouncing along in some predictable pattern.
Must eradication ensue?
Decide for yourself what you take from this.
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