Highness of the hill state, its depths deceived by its purpose, but what purpose is yours, when there are no words left to say, powerful, permanent, words quelled and cued, pacified for the children who don’t know what the blade represents, for the mixture of the drink is not up to standards, and the drugs in their haze, are coming out your throat in an oxycontin nightmare, designed by yourself…
The intricacies of my insanity
where the impossible seems three shorts steps to the left, and one giant leap into insanity…
