Our mind is a treacherous place. Trust is a fantasy. Monsters we have returned to. Malevolent we have become. We speak without knowing. We act without caution. We are selfish. A dark lore looms just above sanity; a sudden push might cease us to exist. Our epiphanies come to be catatonic. Everyday a catastrophic calamity of thoughts. We are broken pieces of glass. A bleeding inevitability of being incomplete. The predicament of wanting to be at all places at once. The dilemma of being stuck in between, having to choose between what is right and what is good. A far reach to sanctuary, a silent cry for comfort, a hopeful breath for relief.
Persevering patience for an ideal. A longing for normalcy.
xx
DMV
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Density Runs 
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