Lost and broken.
Extending to edges,
where remnants of ups
turn to inwards instead.
The broke, weak and shrivelled,
the gone of it all,
the parts to the puzzle
I gave up to fall
to the base -
but i like it, is that something fucked?
To be killing and dying but thinking it's luck?
It's the waste of the atoms surrounding the cause,
when the option is there you can fuck all the laws.
And the rules and the lines
and the borders to cross,
where the other side's boring
and this side's just lost.
In the web of forgetting
and wanting and more.
In fly some options,
then straight out the door.
My turn isn't near,
it's nowhere in sight.
Even those who I try
disappear in the night.
The aim is just sat on, laughed at.
And BLIND is the chosen
with whom, I just know,
us combined,
would be great in the darkness
of shared expeditions.
Adventures of us,
and lost inhibitions.
Who knows when a "one"
or another will come,
probably never
where I am all done.
My truth lies inside,
nobody to see
- rather, nobody willing
to venture beneath.
The power of cover
becomes like a shield
from myself, from the others,
from everything healed.
The love of the serpent
to turn me to dark,
becomes my reliable secret at last!
At the end, when I leave,
and come back to this spot,
the pleasure envelopes me
back into 'NOT'.
