In a hollow world there waits a hollow key. Their hollow quality is prized by connoisseurs who are full of nothing full, and therefore are too empty to eat any more. They've grown fat on the emptiness of ages where nothing happens because why bother? All loose skin now and tight stomachs craving just another bit of ennuitic desperation. Because why not? What else not to live for?
I had a dream where I lost my ring and when I found it again it was only a twisted wisp of wire--nothing like I knew it was. A small loss, except when you account for the fact that I'm always losing rings for one reason or another. A broken chain, a broken promise, a broken ring. I break them all and forfeit surety of mind but it's just a dream, isn't it? I haven't lost it all, have I?
Duality requires function.
I'm afraid of endings where the ending means I won't be coming back at all and then one day I'll look at me and wonder where I came from.
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