Blinkered, can't stop thinking. It's all quite achey, and everything with you is strained and false. I can't see whichway is the best way to anywhere, I am very much conscious of these blinkers, but I'm not very sure how you see around them. Is it only temporary? I hope so. I can't stand this scraping, painful vacuum.
'i want a perfect soul'
(or it isn't really it, but just, in lieu of the real sentiment. to hide, or pretend or be a key, perhaps)
I have not visited my bed in a while. I may do that.
I want to provoke you into coming home. But there was something perfect to say: (I can't remember), still love you just the same.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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