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The TransitIt isn't the place I am going, but the transit from the place I am in, that pains me. I didn't know that footsteps could sound lonely, that I would need to find new words for break and shatter to describe the inconsolable feeling of my ability to speak being ripped away molecule by molecule. I didn't know familiar routes could be disdained, that embarrassing events could be yearned for, a solemn sniffle and tears, merely from conversations with kind strangers. Perhaps it is all going to be ok; but not, I think, today. Quite a shock, pleasant, though hesitant, to realize home is a fluid thing, moving with something it is impossible to follow every moment. Panic grips my mind. A rather unforgiving fiend, ache of my heart wrenches my guts and forces me to admit that I am not well, without certain things is only to make due. If only, the constancy of Chinese water torture. If only, the variety of road trips with no foreseeable end.
Latenight LiteratusWhatever's written on my faceIs far ahead of any paceI can keep withDesperate in a dusty dressCan't close my eyes for any restSnapping to my heart beatWarming my bare feetI'm ready to runTo find what's on my mindI'm looking for somethingI'm looking for lifeI'm looking for you