Towards the Within

I dreamt about this title. And the dream told me, it told me, to never write it down and to never ever ever stop being confused. So that's exactly what I'm not doing. For all that is random and truthful. Honesty is a dish better served cold.

How would you like it if I drew us both with a simple line? No you, no me. Just us. Only one line. One stroke, one uninterrupted segment of ink. Or would you prefer charcoal?

Hang your key onto the moon and I will go up to get it. It's that simple. Lonely flying trees all around you, wherever you go. Nobody put them there, it's all you. Find the place that feels coziest to you. I'd share mine, but you're not mine to tell and it's not mine to give away. How would we be able to see each other otherwise?

Truth is the enemy of fiction, when half the truth does not equal a half-truth.

There goes nothing.