there is a man who can jump and run and prance and dance and fly and cry like a superhuman but he his worthless in this world because of what he can’t do and if thousands of years ago he was he would be a knight but today he’s got no sales
Theres the high road and the low road and one’s covered in grit and sea glass shards. Separate from those is the bad road which leads through the valley and you can’t get through without the proper lantern.
Staring at the flat ceiling above me and the white paint that covers it. I wish it dripped or melted even if I was strangled and asphyxiated by it but it’s dry, its constant. Though nothing lasts forever, it’ll chip someday.