I want to cut all ties. Scratch my face. There's no time to say goodbye. I can't say it fast enough. Everything is erected out of sand.
Confidence is an illusion.
The horizon follows me wherever I go. The distance between intuition and affection can be measured by multiple infractions of fear. I won't descend to a level of equal footing. Everything is obviously at a perilous slant. There must be a way to turn this thing around so that it will take us back to where we started from.