Day and night. I see shapes in the paint drips. I see future rips in the fabric of the foundation. I lie awake. Thinking is it me? Wondering if its me? Podering the fact it might just be me.
Randomly I will walk into the boldness of the light. Shortly before I fall back to the soft misshapen spot I was before. Just intime to mind myself in darkness. Outlining the shadows in my doorway.
We as people need to pay more attention to our hands. For how much they do we show them very little favor.
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