Dreams
As for these dreams which fall across our broken slate of a mind, etched across the shingles and pieces, preparing for the dawn and shallow awakening; they are like meaningless feathers, floating and flying across our conciousness and deepest chasms of disbelief, briefly touching the walls of our state and leaving their faint impressions to be remembered by. Whether or not they carry any slivers of truth, a shaft of light from behind a glimmering cloud, or merely entertanings of the imagination, it seems we will never know.
posted by Unknown @ 12:33 PM
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