Fluid Nightflow

I haven’t yet lost my possession but I’ve begun to miss it. Whymsical theatre of mind that you project through your eyes have killed my excitement. Enormous love and gore; hate and lust have found their way to somewhat engage me in perpetual happiness-to-be. All the possible tantrums and chaos mixed up into one whole bulk of worry in my own head. I feel as if I’m dancing at the lip of volcano, push me slow and I tumble down the slope. Dramas never die and to me, they are just about to kick in my life.

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