Glamoured World

I live in a glamoured world. I hide my sorrow like I hide my joy. Deep.

My dreams are filled with swirling colors. I close my eyes. The grayness of this world hurts.

Deception is my tool of trade. Silence my symphony.

I’m simply treading. Simply floating.

Never fully awake.

Sometimes I feel myself surface. But, I know there is nowhere to hide. The running is futile. In scampering I merely scrape my knees.

In these brief glimpses of life, between the echoing of the doldrums, I seem glimmers.

But, quickly fall back again.

My head resting comfortably. Dullness, my pillow. Stillness in singularity.

Each day indistinct from the last, I go about another’s business. Anxious with another’s concerns. A parasite of paranoia.

It doesn’t matter. I move without being seen. I breathe without intake. Exhaling nothing.

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