Can't make my mind up whether or not this little procedure of mine will ever stop. I mean, I'm like a fucking swan who bends it's head down, breaks the water. But when the purpose of that action is fulfilled it simply changes back to above-water-mode. The difference between me and the swan is that I'm not welcomed back. (Ain't no fucking bird.)
The sky was hyaline when I headed for this landscape of light and thistles where they practice dreamless sleeping (yes, they're too busy daydreaming).
rad
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your're not a swan, swans can't even fly
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