Fibers


Despite committing to consistent production of sentimentalism, I feel the weight of it lace over my vision--- fine silver webs yearning to obstruct my reality. In the evening they jostle against the lunar effulgence. Yes, they are impalpable like the creatures of the night. When I am at once born unto the world, I carry these fibers of influence with me. They help me discern boundaries, embellish or degrade appearances, distort truths from untruths, restrain me from kindling fleeting sensations.

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