In distant calls towards soul neglect, when the chase of the dragon becomes a repeated reality, therein lies the fantasy fuelled by escapism of a warped mind, battered by bright lights and crackling sounds from the ever-ready paraphernalia, the always waiting to lurch on spirit, to drift away into blissful oblivion, egotistic chatter through clenched teeth.

At a time when things fall apart consistently, the root of the problem waits to be exposed through self-reflective moments, causing only deep seated sabotage borne of an unknowing emptiness. A confessional hypochondriac, viewing life through a one-eyed blurry vision and limping walk, struggles to hold on even when the reach of many pillars stand firm along the way.

Recoiling back into self to scrape the remainders of powdered down goals, to catch them before they blow, for them to come oozing out, as tears roll down and as the crashing echoes subside. Double bended sickle, nauseas belittled, relationships fickle by the momentary strenth of the unrelenting monstrosity that has become the wide-eyed psychosis formed in the mind of a precious flower.

A wildflower turned grey by it's own defaulted strangeness.

Wildflower 2012 (c)