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center in the calm of idle
like peering the outside from a bauble
visionary of the distorted beauty
away away from home.

crossing over the television set
into terabithia and fairy tales
breathing in the wondrous perfect ending
a smile, to know you dreamt of it once.


post-hecticness into the slow moments of home. it takes much adjusting. half the time i spent staring at every movement. the remaining, i'd find myself on my bed, wasting my day away in another realm. the dreams were pleasant and surreal. that would explain why i refuse to wake back up into the present i resent and detest. imaginations are suddenly so addictive. but im afraid i might crave it so much i detaches from the current, which happened before.

i think i spoilt myself with too many lies that i began to live a projected image of idealism. *grins* im high without the abuse of substance. i find myself smiling at illusions and dreams and grinning toothily while painting the fence.

i need my fix.

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