A plague

Dreams. I feel comfortable in my skin now. Love. Why is everything so impossible? Myself and what is mine is now converted, but Now. Oh Shakespeare was brilliant and music to my ears. While I am happy, I still feel like I’m sitting in a pot of honey. I’m somewhere in the middle. I can’t write. I can barely put together cohesive thoughts. Someday a real rain is gonna come and wash away our sins.

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