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Dec. 6th, 2010 | 04:37 am

I allow for the solitude of my sleeplessness to strip away my inhibitions. Layer by layer i expose my liberations, which shine too brightly for the naked eye to be seen. The languid nature of my thoughts allows me to puncture the limitations that so frequently suffocate my amorphous consciousness. it is only in the late late hours of the night, way after the night has consumed the day and pending splinters of light assuage the midnight sky, that my thoughts slowly splash back and forth within my mind, unhurriedly and heavily. My thoughts mingle with the dark blue gradient of early morning, thicken in the still air, and crystalize upon the unruffled grass and the lifeless cars.
I feel certain thoughts press against the backs of my eyes in an attempt to free themselves, but not knowing exactly how. they do not find themselves to my mouth. they swell and collect until my eyes cannot bear the burden. these thoughts pour out of the corners of my eyes, trailing long and thin remnants, still fervently trying to express whatever it was they wanted to say in the first place. the rivers of water remind me of my veins that pump blood through desultory paths, or of the branches of a tree that buckle and crimp capriciously and cautiously. They did not find themselves to my mouth, but they found themselves to my lips. My curious tongue can't help but to taste the salt of its own body. Trying to decipher the meaning of these tears, my twisted tongue can't seem to find the words. These languid thoughts are languid words. Too languid to be rightly expressed. Only to be felt, and tasted, and felt. 

I wonder if thoughts happen to us.

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