[ 4am on a friday night ]

[faerytale_dream]

sometimes i think i smell things in my history.
things from antiquity.
hay and wood and smoke of a thousand different scents.
sometimes i think i feel the gossamer of drapes
drifting through an open window on a cool spring breeze
brushing my face like the smoke of incense.
sometimes i think i taste blood
and hear the shouts of fighting,
the sighs and moans of people dying.
sometimes i think i feel the wear in my legs from walking
and smell the grass and herbs and pine of forests no longer standing.
sometimes i think i smell the ocean
and the fine, ripe scent of purple dyes from the bottoms of the sea.
sometimes i think i dont belong in this era,
where magic and myth and spirituality are dimmed and nulled
by science and what we are told to believe is true-
what others decide for us we should know.

sometimes i think i dont want this life. i dont need it. i dispise it.
i belong thousands of years ago.

and then i remember, oh yeah, im clinically insane.

fuck the world.