I saw a needle making love with it's self within a field of poppies, egotistical in it's savagery, swirling within a storm of love filled lies. I watched in wrapt amazement seemingly drawn to the promise of a world thought unobtained, a world only in dreams, I drank the sweet nectar of the gods as the poppies cried their tar, bringing an ****** of lies cries a loneliness that brought a beauty one could only dream. Conspiring confusion as I dove deeper into dillusion where freedom was shackled thoughts perpetually repeating until thought became obsession no matter the consequences. Alone in my thoughts, injecting more lies I silently follow further into the the desolate terms of this silent contract.