there's either a measure of confusion garnered by the world, or fucking confusion measured by exactly what the world decides to teach. scratch off the labels to find out which is.....
dragons exist, if only in the caverns of our psychological panic.
(had a dream once where you and me and them were all lost in the same wilderness. murky and treacherous. a myriad of paths lay before us, and our collective survival relied upon all of us eschewing our differences in order to emerge beyond the gauntlet. yet, the campaign fractured; splintered into factions, each with their own idea regarding exodus. dooming each and all to ridiculous fates, with nil hope for anything but mediocre endgames.)
every little black spot in the corner of my eye is a spider, as it should be. I don't deserve complacency. every dark corner is a question no-one has the right to answer, but somehow it gets fucking asked.
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