And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...
One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.
Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.
As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool.
I am alone here in my own mind. There is no map and there is no road. It is one of a kind just as yours is.