by Betty   A life of confinement and denial. No one to break into, no body to call my problem. For one last night I can realize such faults and suck up fallen attatchments to slip over my hands. Old and New, obviously something has led to nowhere, but still the sun is rising to lavishly burn our skin. To inform us of what's becoming and smoothing out what we know. Dark shrubs and unseen forests plague my imaginary feeling. My unreliable fantasy, only one, moving so slowly, without time. Feverish misunderstandings, mix with tempered laughter and anxiety. I can't be understood, or forgotten. Keep you away with those words of rules and prejudices. I will portray this soul purpose, You don't live with me, you don't know how I sleep. I slumber in a state of pondering to wake up with new strategies of blinding myself from the sadness you inspire people with. Give them a false hope, a false god, only for you to receive false profit. I try not to see these animated lives fall in depth with what is mistaken. But then I realized, we are all mixtures of someone else's dream. Maybe claustrophobic minds.