Losing ones mind is a consequence of too much narcotics and compound letdown. Or at least this is what I'm finding to be true. I start talking to myself when I'm alone going over memories and saying out loud what I would've said differently. The other day I caught myself in this situation and thought "how did I get to this juncture?" From all the way up there to all the way down here and gaining momentum.
I run out of words eventually. So it starts again from the preface. I do the things I know to do, but the pages are wearing thin. The place I promised myself to stop is always getting pushed back just a little. The faces are different but the idea's still the same. I can't fight the urge to crack a smile and say that everything's going fine. The lights shine through the windows smokey haze and who can help but wonder if we really can see the world as it is.
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