Dear pain,
You've taken sleep away from me. The paranoia that breeds across my maps is all rooted to you. I never know if the next morning is the morning when a swollen disk pokes a nerve or a frayed nerve get's caught in gravity's rotation and snips a cold bolt down one of my legs. That paranoia, that anxiety, that never knowing if all of the days waking without you are a lead to some sort of crescendo two days long. pERMANENT INURY BRED Memory.
You don't scare me often. I hope, when next you arrive, you bring some frost and ankle deep snow too.
huddled,
Hobbes
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