Drugged by its techniques
Swooned into its emotion.
To its addiction we lay prey.
Call me crazy, it acts as a compliment.
Neighbours of the Mad Hatter we stay.

Awakened by a sudden Volta.
A little hangover,
Short on sleep.
Darkness collapses as I weep.

Because what isn't said
is shed in tears.
Shift in tone as I speak.
Reflection in the mirror only reveals
the levels of weakness I try to conceal.

A necessity it is to see the glass half filled.
Now it seems to me that half the glass spilled
out words I swallowed with complication.
In the presence of pure motivation
when I was Sober..
All I want is to start over.