Maybe life is a succession of pawn moves. A little here. Again there. Patching together a "journey" of mishaps.
We chase down the madness. The liquor. The perfect high. The exquisite pain of doubt, of hope. If I could have your brain, these words, thoughts, ideas would have the arrogant power to convey themselves as law.
My mind. Raw. Aching. Perfectly enamored.
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