Sanctuary

Sanctuary
Where the Wandering Mind Used to Rest

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Holes

been poking holes in my armor.  cutting myself in the process...  like getting something out of a can.  you have to be careful of the edges.
I need to feel but it's more than I bargained for.
not sure what's more dangerous, the stuff I'm letting in or what's coming out.
the decision is made though.  I'll be true to my nature if it kills me
(it might, I have my moments...)
I'm fascinated by miscommunication.  How badly skewed from lips to ears and back.  Do we mislead ourselves or do we misread the world?  why do we miss so much and take so many years to notice?

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