Hot chocolate no longer tastes like chocolate

Tea gets me as drunk as wine

I get about as high on cannabis as I would rosemerry or thyme

The clocks in my house have stopped ticking

Though I never stop to check

There's a litter of stray kittens, outside my door, on the front step

Although time has stopped passing
And the gods have fallen asleep

I still find myself laughing
That I've wept to much to weep

We are the underground poets of the universe.

We write to ease our pain from our own shadow,

We clothe our flesh, feelings & emotions into written sins,

Mask our aspirations to repent,
Dreams may be unholy, yet it is the highest liberation.
                  Over generalized written statement,
                                           Signed.
                                                                ­   

                                                                                         ©MH