December 3, 2009
It does not matter how time is spent, for when i reach my bed things have returned to what has been. I seem to rest in a selfless place, and it has been desolate for much longer than claimed. But yet, i wait for a time to come where sleep can be shared once again.
Although my bed is filthy, there are few other places that i deem even remotely close to sanctuary, although refuge is not what i seek. What i see fit is not quite as i seem, but to where the seams lead. Always in that direction again. There are magnificent minds harbored in this city, and what and whom i know is only just beginning. Only the beginning…