Crippled and disassociating

She scales the sound-scape.  Elastic, beats the wings of those messages flown from the reaches no one dares.   What is sacred here;  I, feel.  Truthfully, that is all I know.   My head is raving. The ghost is on my pillow.  The ghost is on the brain.  My legs are cold.  I feel insane.  Do you feel?  Are we on the same walkway.  Or would you hide the pain.

disassociate

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