remix.dance-edit-dance

i dont know what im writing anymore. just that writing acts as the de-clutter-ization of my hectic mind and a strike against my confidence when nothing comes out  perfect translation and the words just stumble along. i dont know what im dreaming anymore. your face forever gone and haunting awkward hours. no chance of a crash refresher course. the pencil lines disappeared into a sea of torn pink eraser pieces while the permanent marker remains as bold as ever, if not even more noticeable than before. before the massacre of closure. gambled that chance, now any chance for strip poker? there's not much left to take, insanity already beat you to it. im gonna miss me when im gone, when i completely belong to a figment of my own imagination.