the corridors of my mind are full of possibility
which is kind way of saying they are currently empty.
her fingers reach into the ashes to retrieve what remains of me
or one of her favourite addictions simultaneously
and i don't need to justify my preoccupations anymore
i am beyond these brochures
advertising a semblance of plastic happiness
i am expressing a longing that needs no explaination
perpetuating my own kind of bliss
my own private hallucinogenic
my delirium, my oblivion...
this is an outlet for my anxiety,
anchored in the smokey chasms of my own awareness
of ego or superego,
a claiming of self- discovery
or exploration of the entire concept of obscenity
remember to not let go
remember to always be cognizant of Truth
and just keep on...