I just want to molt, shed this old skin & run far far away,
for the horizon.
i’d watch everything,
everyone i know
disappear into the background.

Never look back & spend the rest of my days dancing with Dionysus.

No food, no drink. Sustain myself on the Ambrosia alone.

I’d live in a world of colour, nameless stimuli & endless perception.

Haven’t been dreaming as vividly as I used to.

And waking life is seemingly nonsensical, yet all too rational.
Clichés I haven’t got the patience for.

I want my insides out.