two sets of words in just a few days, we call that progress somewhere out there.

the bus smells bad, stale and clingy. i think that my duffle coat will smell the same when i get off. we're at ferrytoll, the end of the earth. it really should be; there is nothing here but a park 'n' ride used for dumping and migrating elsewhere. crossing the bridge into my city, dreich and full of decadence and squalor. sometimes i think that i'll be killed here; back alley stabbing on the fringe of suberbia - because i live in a nice area that borders a not so nice area and at night, the moon calls wolves. other times i can see myself soaring, lifted with a power ready to spill over like cloud's tears, raining down. i feel whole. i feel whole until i hear, a whisper from the corner, of parties and futures. even today, with someone who is like my twin, i could not tell who she was becoming. fear isn't leaving me, and neither is the hypocrisy i spout - i've come far but apparently it's not far enough. x xx