Ask me how a barethreaded tapestry feels, for I can tell you. Frayed at the edges, you are all unraveled and raw. To feel that the very ground you walk, stand on is no longer stable and solid. For it is crumbling away and its dust, treacherous. You have nothing, no one to lean on. They are just figments of your insecurities. Your sanity merely an illusion. And the only thing that is left for you to do… is breathe.
The air not even yours, just lent to you.
3 juillet 2008 21:32:01
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