My hair has grown but my body lingers
In childhood trances
My brain? Anxious, Insane.
Torn between values and ****-it-alls,
Objectivity and nihilist paradise.

Coffee grounds keep me caffeinated, awake,
Giving a ****.
Then the high disappears, and I quiver
Full of arrows pointing
Into every possible corner of existence.
A breath is taken, a step withdrawn,
To be deposited in gold mines;
Of murderous reason.

So I stand at the peak
Of personal enlightenment
With a handful of delirium
And a head wound.