It's the manic state that drives the body to sweat with tremors in the night. The point when you lose control of the things you want and the things you are and trade them for adrenalin is where you find your nights becoming days and your days becoming eternity. There's no rest, only the castles of sand built in the day light, destroyed by the tides of the night.
The addiction rises with the season to whatever the drug of choice is- alcohol, marijuana, love, cocaine, lust, money, acknowledgement. The wants fight the terrors.
The acute awareness of loneliness romancing the ages. That freedom only exists in and of itself and is bought with one's life, for and of itself.
Where lies the conversation of the souls? Laced in our carefully selected rhetoric that displays whit with no substance? It's the synchronization of the brain and it's emission of waves and chemicals that dance in the open space between our eyes and mouths. They flex the heart; tighten the chest.
I am a rock, to not be moved, to stand alone for the ages- another ripple of the earth's meaningless jolts. The composition of my placement is nonsensical and inner destruction does ensue and spew onto the crust a new callus of skin.
Whittle things down until they're small and lonely. What once was a forest is now a field of angry, useless stumps.
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