again

[_pleiades]

i've never been the one to fit politely into candid photos. i am a battle ground each passing day. i can no longer control my passion, lost trust. my legs are twisted reason. eyes just bat and observe. and He looks through squints of lash with his perpetual lightness that is clear and full and wonderful. I ask, and hault my curiousity at the silence that surrounds. Finally, smiling in this thing that i am.

Sanity or Madness?
Full or Empy?
To touch or be touched?