Is it schizophrenia , or just simple mania, that makes me just as likely to laugh, as to cry? To know, as to wonder why?
Tides push and pull washing/gritting in equal measure, who knows?
In light and shade contrast, I crave. Everything must be black (or white) at ground level, or lost, soaring in flight. Motionless or breakneck at a thousand miles an hour. Shielding eyes against glare or staring into darkness.
Trojans face Greeks, we're all normal, us freaks. Cutting a path through waist-high meadow grass and fallin'... fallin'.... hitting ground, painless, on my ****!
I love how the night smells when days are scentless, darkness brings secrets we're all friends here, hateless, seeking something intangible nameless and free.