The clock strikes one

The mouse runs down…

The clock strikes two and he’s bitten in two…

Little mouse should have stayed in on that day.

The gonz was about the house.

So… I’m incredibly bored. I have a story to write… Well two things to bridge together and then edit for sake of continuity.

I un-cocked my ■■■■… I was heartbroke… but I’m still loved.

Before I devolve into a pointlessly babbling moron (If I haven’t already)… Just want to say. It’s good to be alive. I feel like myself again. When I push everyone out of my head and night rolls around I can still pick up on the subtle vibes of the culture that I had came to appreciate resonating about. Some experience that only the subconscious was picking up on back in the day… It’s like losing a person you didn’t think you loved in a break-up only to realize that you did love them.

Day will strike again and rob me of this connection to the world. But for now I get to hear the pitter patter of the rain outside. I get to imagine the light fogging and distortion of the yellow street lights. The odd blue reflection of wet asphalt and cement. The essence of the night embodied all around. The sky meeting the ground so thoroughly in so many ways… It takes me to far away places, while allowing me to know that I’m right where I should be.

Climbing the dragons nest-stalk only to sit in a hatched egg to appreciate the distant thunder and rain. Watching them dip and sore through the clouds in the distance… Hearing there calls as if they were whales of the sky… Never wanting to leave… or at least that’s how I feel momentarily… everything grows boring after a while. So thank the day for the contrast… Otherwise I might lose the love for the only place I’ve ever wanted to truly call home… The night

(I am ironman)

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