Kian Sheik

Mine olde friend tyme hath given me a key
It hath spoken of luck. It hath spoken to me
It rattles on of mine furious admiration. It
sings of hope and a week desperation
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i cannot escape my mind of you. once a lack of concentration occurs, my mind is filled with thoughts of you. it happens like a panther. i dont notice it coming. i lose my attention and you pounce into my mind. and i love that it happens. i love remembering what happened last time i saw you.
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i feel a strong connection to the moon. as if it is pulling me in. i love the moonbeams. i deeply enjoy the ever so subtle dim rays on my skin. the aura it emits. it suits me perfectly, and I am fine with it.
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logically sound, i am beginning to have more fun than before. i was masked prior to the last few moments. i did not truly have a good time when i was with others. my peers did not bring me joy. my nostalgic craving for childhood jubilee was to immense to bear.
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i miss her so much. i long for her at night, afraid the time apart will be sumptuous for her. i cannot bear to stay in this cycle of time. a spherical conundrum of want. i must let the mistress scream, or at least until the time allows me to silence the howling maiden.
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