The sunlight is gone now. I sit in a darkened chair and observe the drip of an icicle. There is a thump in the distance and a smile on a clown I cannot trust. I move in the night and find what is not right. There is a silence in the servitude. I now know that there will not be a reality that is pretty, but I can just try to create silence in a small space. Maybe there is a cloistered space in another place. Not really, but my dreams trouble the soul and bring rise to pain in my body. I know that a relationship is not the best option for a creature like me. I will try other means of socialization that are less connected. Respect is a word. In my life, towards me, it will always be absurd. I now rest in the knowing of violence of the day. Control of my soul is the only answer to the call of any person who would walk beside me. I will go back to walking alone and respect myself and know the actual and factual of the day without a judgement being the grim reaper in the wings. Vie 112
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