My story is a journey. Marked in gold and blood and truth and dust. Full of wonder and rage, kisses, and the falling rain. Raging wars and playing chess with my demons. In no particular order. Every street sign in this hologram is a different shade of grey. With no real firm direction for me to take. So you just join the dots and try to make it up as you go. Across the shores of time. Even if you gotta swim like hell for it while being circled by wide jawed predators. For the road laid out ahead is full of uncertainty against the backdrop of a group of spoken word critics of the worst kind. And the only time I can make out colours is when I’m drunk as fuck or it’s dark outside. The flickering trickery of lampposts and otherworldly designs placed among my eyes to see them in time. Different than the way you see the world. In the way I can make out the static between this one and the next. Where you see stars, I see home. But I still walk this line like it’s a highway. And its concerning. Forgetting justice and freedom for my place at the table. But don’t ever mark me as a sheep. Because I floated six feet off the ground when they came and I’ve seen too many magic tricks not to believe in the universe. They say wolves hunt in packs while I’m walking solo passed a burning church. So when they pick up my scent and make their way to my door, no amount of goats blood will suffice. I levitate when I sleep. I fly overhead, and add a notch on my bed post every time the sirens come. Before they disappear again like the poetry of another world. Like a pretty white dress blowing up with the next gust of wind to show but a glimpse of what eternity feels like. Before it disappears and I go back to smoking cigarettes and getting high. Navigating any landscape they choose. With precision design. Overwhelming in its presence as I talk of this world we think we know and understand. I can prove to you that ghosts are real like I can climb the highest tower and bear to look down. I can show you all kinds of wonderful and terrible things. But you can never hold the weight for me. I used to ride with no helmet in the wrong lane with the wind at my back just to tempt fate and now I’m just checking my watch and wondering what the next tick will bring. As I tap tap tap to the beat of a million people whispering my name.

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