last week i've surrendered myself to my bed, stroking the sultry smooth surface of the velvet sheets with their subtle stripes. my face pressed against the pillow, my soul tapping its feet around, my body drenched in the vague thoughts of
of the time i had, of the time i'll have
the illusion of time.
thinking about how people have changed/progressed, however you'd like to see it. it's scary to see there are so many versions of you and me, of the people you know, all the redundant forms of every single being.
you're incomparable to the last second you, and so am i, and so is he and she, so are they and we. it's like having infinite parallel worlds, alternate dimensions, different realities.
all your life you've been trying to find the perfect soundtrack,
that never belongs to the dead soil under your feet.