Walking the streets of another land while holding your own hand. Leading up to a broken door. You have the key. You always have. Maybe your 'insanity' and isolation prepared you for a precise delivery. I don't want to write for the galaxies. I want the galaxies to sit within the dead skin cells of my hands.
I'd love to tip toe next to you. Understand what I never knew. Maybe you're just a forgotten poem. Once again a new blend of bliss. Growth I'll never miss. The trees grew rings. The lovers sat on swings. We all played with things that were directed towards our hearts.
Love of Freedom:
I'd love to create something tragically new. To know how the deal works, which makes you smarter than a fresh fish. Swim within the sea but keep your fins dry.