it is naught but the nuance of language that stands between me and the brink.I am chased and chasing words and implications; distinctions so fine as to be illusory, when this chimera is the best comfort to be hoped for.
and yet, i am comforted, by these faint and futile particularities. by the refusals transmuted to avowals. by a glance, by clasping, by tones and timbre.
and thus the dazzling dark is pierced.
Current mood:
contemplative
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