Each and every thought, vision, concept, idea, that sprouts from the depths of my awaking conscious, to my slumbering head, consuming my thoughts with a distorted twinge of the unique- yet dark information, lain within this lone journal.
Only in dreams, can he touch her. She's in love with someone she can't touch.
He's in tune. He's listening.
She dreams of him, while he hallucinates of her.
She picks up on yesterdays thoughts. She looks so much prettier when she cries.