|| Noun ||

I thought you loved by surges

I thought you cared endless

I thought you knew no wrongs

I thought me your muse and your canvas

I thought we played music through silence

I thought about breakfasts and lifelong

I thought thoughts were never reckless

Well I know now, I thought wrong

– a.h.


What makes thoughts so dangerous, is the person who gave life to them. And if you may kindly let me give my best advice — don’t listen to your thoughts.

” Oh God just look at me now… one night opens words and utters pain… I cannot begin to explain to you… this… I am not here. This is not happening. Oh wait, it is, isn’t it? I am a ghost. I am not here, not really. You see skin and cuts and frailty…these are symptoms, you known, of a ghost. An unclear image with unclear thoughts whispering vague things… If I told you what was really in my head, you’d never let me leave this place. And I have no desire to spend time in hell while I’m still, in theory, alive. ” – The Finer Points Of Becoming Machine, Emily Andrews


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