Pacing, I can't sit still. Unsolved thoughts, squashed underfoot, shedding skin, invisible to me, dust patterns form around materialism and coffee stains, recreate the solar system, reminding me, there is a world out there. I've never smoked, I have dragons to slay and I'm tired of the circles. There is no door facing me, the sky is only in my head, behind my closed eyes, it sometimes rains. all of my clothes are more at home hanging aimlessly, without purpose.