(Written from Las Encinas,
October 2014)

Maybe I’m alive
Why couldn’t I be dead?
Maybe this is an episode
Why can’t an angel be led

To the perfection
We all abusively strive for?
To avoid reality
In which we are perfectly abhorred

Addicts hate addicts
Normies obsess over addicts
Individuals find crowds unsafe
Sheep feel safe with individuals

As asylums eliminate voices
The music steals my mind
From an irate attention span
My fate now has vague signs

It’s just a safe retreat
Like a snowflake in heat
Reality only swarms outside
Imagination within never subsides

Boundary settings say “Why not?”
Their eyes penetrate your two spirits
A beautiful, curly-haired Egyptian boy
Lathered and washed away your limits.




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