I do as I can to avoid drugs
other than those readily
available to me but
tucked away in some sac
Or gland other hidden
wrinkle of the brain.
A perfectly measured dose
triggered by random
but accessible memories,
a passing fragrance
an old photo
a song on the radio
moms cooking
that one shirt.
let those gaps in the brain
be flooded with the
transcendental ambrosia
our flesh has prepared us.
(A few pieces of AI generated artwork. The original prompts have been mashed up into whatever garbage this is. Sorry but your welcome.)
It’s your second wedding anniversary but your wife is literally in a mental institution.
A man too scared to acknowledge his God but even more afraid to deny him.
Like a dying animal on DMT, I try to laugh the pain away.
I just want to see what a computer thinks “the death of a dream” looks like because it can’t be worse than reality.”
Suburban Youth 