At the lonely hour

Y U N I  |  A u g u s t  0 4 , 2 0 1 5

My thoughts are never good company. They pick and choose their territory. They confuse. They probe at every door, every window, every nook and cranny. They scour the world to find the cracks, the holes, the spaces of discomfort. They tear into the infinitesimal. They unearth ashes and disperse venom. They poison the senses and obscure memory. They are irrational little beasts who claw at the walls of doubt and fear. They formulate, they deduct, they make useless assumptions out of useless realities. They travel frame by frame, image by image, making sense of misunderstandings by storming through quietness. They are loud, obnoxious and leave a bad taste wherever they go. But they can feel beautiful. Like a reverie. Like a lullaby singing you awake.

Although I'm never lonely, It's a comforting thought that I'm not alone.

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