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violet skies Jan 8
there is this stench hanging over me
I can't ignore the smell for much longer
it looks like a shifting dark vibration
ever moving, quaking, reverberating
a collection of excitable flies gathering together to feast
on the entrails of my mind's failed operations
the buzzing gets louder still
almost unbearable to withstand now
it's starting to shoot through my conscience
I can feel the little insects conspiring and mutating as one
a battle lies ahead, waiting to unravel
dormant in the swaying green that surrounds
like a sweet illusion of peace
ready to strike and pounce upon the unassuming pockets
of hope and tranquillity which rest in nearby lagoons
the battle is soon to be underway
I can feel it
lurking on the fringes of my morale
as it begins to intoxicate me
the sour starchiness of tainted dreams
dissolved within ashen clouds
I think
as I allow myself to be consumed
I think
I am beginning to get drunk
on my own complicity.
2024

— The End —