#cvrh97

that weren’t made to fit.

Now adults in our own clothes,

getting on, cut the stitch.

Please let me sleep

Please let me dream

Please let me breathe

Please let me scream

Please please please

I beg of you trixie

Please stop trynna trick me

I feel you sitting on my chest

Feel you clawing at my neck

Won’t let me get out of my bed

I can’t get you out my head

Will I ever escape you

Do you go too, if I’m dead

“when you sleep, your dream world is as real to you as life, isn't it? thought is real. physical is the illusion. ironic, huh?”

“send her loving thoughts,” he told me. “that’s all?” “that’s quite a lot, chris. thoughts are very real.”

“I guess that’s a sort of occupational hazard about soulmates- one isn’t much without the other…”

 "I could not say goodbye, but whatever the distance between us, I send you my love."

“...eternity is similar to the realm of the imagination”

When I know your soul, I will paint your eyes - Amadeo Modigliani

“When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd” - Walt Whitman

4

In the swamp in secluded recesses,

A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.

Solitary the thrush,

The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements,

Sings by himself a song.

Song of the bleeding throat,

Death’s outlet song of life, (for well dear brother I know,