What do you do when nothing is ever right or left? Do you watch embers fall or dwell in desolation? Or do you inhabit insanity without the answer to the question? There’s never enough answers or ways to feel alive. I live in two dimensions: one where nothing sleeps and one where nothing exists. There is no difference between reality and dream; they are both safe havens for trepidation. But perplexity never has a home. It’s always traveling through a vortex of misguidance, wandering through depths of time and always getting lost. It never has a reason to continue breathing, as protruding palpitations pitter-patter past provisional perceptions. I’m just floating away when liberation is only for sentient souls who’ve never had the chance to let go.