The idea of rest being rest in someone eludes me. Though I think I've been there before, it seems foreign to my path and ideas. Maybe because I reject the thought of being chained or shackled for too long that being tamed is torture. Or it's the fear of being tamed and left with nothing but the hope of having a home and a purpose. Life plays with you too much that it either suffocates you or sets you free enough to falter. Even your ideals of how the world should be turns into a play of words and incoherence.
Chaos, one thing I found my peace in in most cases. Now it is a blur, a background of noise traveling up my spine and crawling through my bones. A discomfort knowing I am alone. A though that I thought I would be fine with the rest of my life. Crowded, cold, and uncertain of where I stand... There is only the breath I have before I lay my head down and find my self in the realm of dream. Yes, I am drunk. The alcohol spurred out my suppressed thoughts and chased me home. Maybe I am not alone. My thoughts will forever chase me home.
