The bad nerve 

Sitting in my car, waiting for the inspiration to bring me alive like a heartbeat.

The music feels dangerous and I love this. Contemplating; not the hazard of speeding down the highway ferociously but to drive at melancholic speeds sipping on a vile of cold poisoning,

The exact place of solitude that a good old song and writing can bring.

Wondering just how dangerous I can be, How much fear I can bring, just by being extremely hard to read and impossible to see. 


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