Smoke and lights cascade over my escapades. I may appear empty but truthfully I am fulfilled. Not by what I have achieved, but what I have in store for my ego to absorb. That hollow Pillsbury biscuit that I call my ego taste great with honey. Honey of a woman that walks in and out of my life. The plastic beads that hang in my door way swing violently whenever she enters. She only leaves when I’ve been sleeping. When I lose sight of my ambition. When my emotions get the best of me. Though when she’s around Niagara has never looked or felt so good. She knows my worth and rather see me sail than sink so when my head isn’t able to be above water she loosens her grip. Ratatattat goes the snare of my heart as my words create makeshift art. She falls apart when my glue isn’t there to hold her. Turn on her console and load up the last great Zelda game. I play my ocarina and in time our lives become intertwined. Something out of a comic book with the way she is with her actions. Never a moment for relaxing. We are each others adventure. The warmest relationships always happen in winter.

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