I don't do drugs

With nocotine burning

Caffiene steaming

Obscene dreaming

Thoughts teeming

Seeming to be alive


It's all relative

Relating to the dead,


Like sanscrit

Written by life

Formed in the multiple sands unborn

Torn from its singular rock

Hardened like a talon

Meant to cut, rip, imapling

Inanimate coralling

Adrift sailing.

The End

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