I live in a hedonistic dreamscape.
The only thing tying me down
are the thorned vines of reality and expectation.
My mind has long been a victim of a clumsy glass maker.
Dropped and reformed over and over.
Being swept along like untidy dust.
A vortex of haze and toxicity.
Poisonous and acrid.
The vault has been breached ladies and gentlemen.
The snakes and flies have all escaped.
WE ARE THE HOLLOW STAR CHILDREN OF THE COSMOS.
There is no fairytale or lovely longing love.
Chemicals and electric pulses of pleasure and pain writhe in our brains.
Its all nothing.
Needed is a myth.
Hollow children of the cosmos.
Existing for fleeting moments
sweet kisses and beautiful romps
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