C an t tell you why. There is so much I want to tell you, but simply can t. can t find the words or the strength to find it to tell you to discover it for myself. I realize that I don t have imperfections, simply, I am not perfect. I m no finished da Vinci masterpiece but an incomplete sketch. Continuous streams of consciousness can be fun for the speaker but bad for the listener but provide insight into my mind.
Whispers are for secrets only.
I need a place to find peace. Screaming, streaming, falling, on my knees crawling debased, erased, invisible grace, invisible me. I can no longer think. I have no answers. The pain in my brain drives me insane .