Wake up, possessed by a nightmare. Wake up, convinced you are another, not yourself. Me and myself never got along anyway. Me, myself, and you. I, not present. Me, ironically without eyes. Myself, desperately fighting you, the architect of my misery. It's just an object. Doesn't mean what you think.
We're as close as one is to nine. Ten goes looking for zero and gets caught up in what's mine. And I tell him it's none of his business because it isn't. But I appreciate the company. He's surprised to find nothing, more hurt than one usually is but it still stings to learn that… Continue reading As Maniacs Do