I'm screaming in seconds like transparent orbs
The words of intoxication blend my speech
Until my mind is barely making sense
Of the reality I've lost touch with.

I question myself and my everything
And every single movement like a weather vane
Capturing the winds of my attention
To lesson my mentions and increase the tensions.

I ain't so sure about myself as I once was,
Maybe it's all of the drugs or the lack thereof.

Hate to be a bore but I'm looking to score,
But I ain't sure if we're playing hockey, tennis or soccer.
Never suffer a witch or burn a martyr,
Especially when they're the supplier.

Ain't much of a liar but then I ain't ever been much for the truth neither.
I'm teething and biting the ***** of this so called life and I drink what I like, no matter the color.

Deep down and somewhere under, I shudder at the thought of what could be if I would stop speaking in metaphors and open up my energy in a direct application.
But since that's just a fantastic, too apt destination, I might as well shut my ******* mouth and finish this poem.

But I never know when to quit,
So last verse is dedicated to you...
Whatever the ******* are.