The History of Sentiment

tapping on the bottom of the chair, hoping for an alteration of essence strictly of the background noise withstanding only what i can hear i endured a barrier around a chasm, one within my body, to which the walls are water and the center is my breath i may drown for the recklessness of my visits, on red pluses and shimmering silver a peculiar feeling where i dont do much and everyone else does its much like living in a tomb how of course i would never know, i have never lived in a tomb, but something tells me its not far away.