There I go, flirting with disaster.... because the past swains of hypothetic emotionalism, truthism, originalityism, and no-one-can-treat-you-better-than-I-can-ism have left me with deaden security and countless reasons to efface images, memories, and places.
It's like a stranger, in a hat, ripped out my mouth and replaced it with lips... took my arms and exchanged them for wings... adopted my empty chamber and left a heart. Realistically speaking, my anatomy is the same. My mind and my body constantly clash against each other in a war of choice and outcome. But, the change of soul released me into an impractical vision of a life free of venture.
What I'm trying to say is, nothing or noone in this mere 1 mile radius can surface enough tragedies to enact a sense of reverence... not even you. Disaster's got nothing on me.
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