Words like condensed crystals in the hidden crevices of glaciers waiting for yet another avalanche. There’s caramel coating and space dust in our mouths and yet, all that comes out of it is bullshit. Smelling the daisies at night time, my blurry self regains the lost throne of a drunken majesty even as I sip the flavor of flowers that others can only inhale. Music in my ears, I waltz around with a vibe that can only belong to the 1970’s. And that’s the dream. I imagine puny people smoking on boulevards with a wild dog howling in the backdrop. Talk about a non-classical muse. They were never supposed to be the scum of the Earth but such is my tantrum throwing frozen skull carving bloodshot wounds on my visual imagery. I suppose that’s the price you pay for losing your sanity. Makes me wonder if I ever had…