way of life

The truth is, we take drugs not to escape; we have already found the door to no where and now in our patheticness, we hang around on it's door step not knowing what to do, or who we are. Some bodies body left behind in it's idolatry rot, one of those little red slideshow viewer things, and here we are sitting and clicking the button at the top, seeing a journey of aeroplanes and magical colours while we grow thin and weak outside of these attractive 2D visions. Any time we put the toy down we find our fingers have grown too frail to effectively pull back open the door handle, and now we turn to our only thing left to play with, toys. And I love child hood, for it's innocence and it's rich images of unknown are what colour the world right. But if you found a kid sitting in the cold left with one single repeating, soulless activity to do, you would call it neglect and feel pity.

Now, I want to throw myself in the jungle.