Quote:
Originally Posted by Moose72
I want to run. Cry. Dash through the spaces between my thoughts, like a grove of intangible trees. Nothing is real except the me I see in me that wants to be free.
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this is at the core of bipolar needing to immunise against the reality pandemic.
who or what can stop this personal movement from destructible space into indestructible space
why settle for mortal when death breaks it's own back during the chase
where this little shape does not matter (?)...the question
...cos freedom aint no answer it's an experience