in a dream, the planes of thought cease to level, yet always to you do i return. it's innate to my being, but fraught with discord, and accord...ingly do i chastise that which tempts. if forever were a tangible reality, we'd be there.

it is not without measure that i come to you. it is without hesitation. frustration. and complication. how do i get there? the instructions emblazoned on my heart confuse, yet lend temporary respite from alternative servitude. innateness is present, forever. i welcome the transition, and gratify this effort of being aligned with another.