Chariots

My life is in the process of refurbishment, I suppose. I've been through this cycle time and time again, though. I ought to have figured out the chronology of it. Of course, I usually end up emerging from it with fond, staggering breaths of a heated heart. Awakening from this dream is what's going to be the hard part. The only things I take back with me are the ugly scratch marks that highlight my body. They are beginning to develop stories and adapt new looks. Caressed milky hills over a smooth freckled surface. Scars, you call them. And after while, I start to run into walls that I can't really see above or around. But there are always those who posses super-human abilities that fly, walk through, or break down those walls. I love those people a lot. An eager combination of elapsing time and faithful beloved remain to be all that restore me from the jeopardising plights I'm up against. Further fabrications of territories is bound to happen to the best of us, even if it's all that we rely on.