My headspace is liminal. My thoughts broadcast echos that bounce down the creepy halls, returning as memories as sound thats hard to read. Re-record not fade away, but yet you always do.
Litter circles spin themselves in dingy corners where my demons reside, feeding off carcass' of a me in days gone by, beady eyes bore into me, you cannot hide for you are me. Why don't you know!
I have a match and tub of gasoline to terrorise the room where you keep dreams and aspirations the burnt out husk is too far gone for hope of renovation, I'm laughing in my own face at the sighs of of desperation.

Nice write .

NICE