thought's are buried in my head, they haunt me like the night that haunts the days, they seek to find what is their, they cry for me, as i can know longer cry for myself, my hunger is gone, my thurst is this,

i explore the unknown, grasp for it's burning desire's that bother me as i dream, hunger no longer feeds me, not of the human kind, i walk in the night for more, more knowledge of this,

i can longer think rational, for it is not their, it is like my casual thought, my phantom hold's my mask in it's hand for i am the mirror image,

i contuine to soft the blow, to pencil me in, to hold a pillow beneath me, my illusion sulficates the embrace of friend, an this words come casading down, as i bring closer to a thought that makes me grasp my head, holding it in my hands as to not share my secrets with anyone, secrets that i keep as an embrace, so that i alone can understand, what is unerstood in me,

both my days and years are in me, they are the lungs of my breath, i inhale them like a drug addicts graving for more,

my destiny surrounds my movement, my peace of mind, my comfort zone is the peak of an eye opening closer.

deborah richards self.