Day Three Hundred and Eight - Sand
Bizarre circus muSic whirls amongst strange tongues and shuddering lurches of the train.
The loud clicking of nail clippers pierce the cacophony like needles through flesh.
Thoughts of violence. No peace for my tiring mind, no comfort for this fraying soul.
Except for the darkness, except for sleep and always, always the thought of my absent friend.
The loud clicking of nail clippers pierce the cacophony like needles through flesh.
Thoughts of violence. No peace for my tiring mind, no comfort for this fraying soul.
Except for the darkness, except for sleep and always, always the thought of my absent friend.