I begin to dream while I m still awake, never taking care to see where I m going. But I hear and my conscious alerts me, warning me of calamity and possibility. This awareness becomes formal to my step, and I haven t wandered yet from its reliable path. Instead I let myself be swayed by random storms, as I remain true while squandering away this wrath.
The rain has come before my notice leaving me in this state, so I hover. The gray is constant in my background bringing on this strange twilight, sweetening sleep s caress. And finally, I find I am able to rest.
Impassioned, I lurk where I stand and form these opinions.
The passing stranger combs me with their stares. .
The world hums a fair tune that s impossible, always snaring the better starved musician.
I greet a daydream here and there gratifying my fancy.
Nothing moves me save for doom; doomed to dance to a different saver, this melody that is also my institution.
I am a woman but also a man, so much for thoughts approaching opposing standards. My society is wrapped by tradition, leering and combative to my principles. My approach is sightly and unseemly broaching this constant apprehension.
---To belong or not to belong because of whose way, swayed by whom or what I ask why, why for the principles for which I believe should I give when I cannot believe in, and thus agree---
It s for this disagreement that I am disabused of my very nature, pliant to egression before their judgment and all those who d question it.
To live as independent of its commotion, dealing and adjusting to its necessity. As now I am and insist on being tactful, I am also tired of being aged by its maintenance.
