See: tall trees of abandonded forts,
Watch: the smoke obscure all sorts of thoughts, get taught how to speak,
how to read, how to draw your own lines and forget coloring books.
Get lost: there are other words here than your own, there is music you want to know.

There is a world outside, and it is filled with evergreens.
Climb: the trees will welcome you, but you must earn their trust. Learn their culture.
You can make friends with the moss incandescence, but remember the signs.
Don't miss: the neon green glow of wood high rises explaining their treason,
we come with a purpose, but we are here for a reason, you can't forget the: rain.

And in the end nostalgia brings pain, brings memories of madness,
of cabin fever and walls covered with the sick grime of insane.
A mind is a beautiful thing when lost, left to fight for itself amidst mist and confusion,
covered by a thick wet blanket of dew and convinced it's too womb-like to give up.
(But it did.)

Too much time spent under the influence of rainier's slick sweat,
thoughts slowly turning towards direction and dementia slowly turned away.
Realize: I couldn't stay contemplating my navel and the drivel given me by popular education,
educating myself to stop contemplation and start to wander and
wonder why I was spending money to waste time.

Because: The plot will one day close, the street will come to an end,
and this tale has stretched, old and tired, it needs a rest.
Goodbye: I am no longer a stranger in this absurd world of dominoes and Dan Savage,
this bizarre prison of lovers and fuckers, but

I leave you Washington to your own devices: May you forever rain.

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