On nights...On nights like this one you can't help but let your mind wonder. It leads me through journeys long forgotten. In big-strung-out stories developed by unconscious angels sitting in chairs without armrests. They scribble and pass to the next. A long procession of wingless angels sketch at white papers stringing my mind along.On nights...
My eyes close and still my mind careens even further into oblivion. Wanting to be oblivion(ous), I want to sit and feel nothing, taste nothing, see nothing, even think nothing. I want my self to me; the ourself and let me be free for a still, from of my life. I almost made it once, but like a child
