I'm not sure what has led me to feeling this way, but I'm full of stomache acid, worry, and fear. Makes me want to drink a gallon of whiskey, neat. I hear nothing but the echo of my own isolation, lost in a desert of my own making. A mere afterthought of the enchanted. A forgotten memory of a disconnected dream. Do we exist or matter? Like the once treasure velveteen rabbit who could never be real without the boys love, until finally he did.
© betha6273