holes and cracks
gaping
ripping through
the texture of existence
whelmed by darkness
and insanity

the chair knows
its unnatural pose
giving way
by force alone
to some kind of alien
economic rigamarole

where is the love?
who makes the rules?
why?
why?
forever why
when all that ever was
has been here
all along

“why would I need mushrooms when I feel like this all the time?”

m(-_-)m