I sleep on my couch. Can't remember what the comfort of my
own bed feels like. The only thing that touches me anymore
are the cold sweats i wake up to. But still I grip my
blanket tighter. Pull it over me harder . as even that falls
apart withhhh rips and tears. I try to be more gentle.
Softer. Fragile. elegant. white wall's. But lets face it. Im
a mime with a painted face . i live in my own world building
invisible wall's up to protect me from yours. I stay quiet
cuz they ask me to. They prefer me to. They dont say it with
words. They use looks. I guess were all mimes. Mocking and
mimicking. All of us living in our own version of what we
think "reality" really is.