Drugs, sweet drugs,
the lovely state of intoxication.
Dont forget the best one:
inhale yourself, listen, do.
Be your own army.
Go into seclusion.


Go to the desert.
Come back with the loot.
Celebrate it. Burn it. Eat the ashes.
The crown wont be given;
with the gold of your own blood
form a new one.
Instead of thorns - mud of obliviousness,
filth of despair.
The sound will be your jewell, its lustre - your rancour
- dont get too vain.
Black ants on paper will conquest your brain, body, whatever.
Welcome them warmly,
there shall be no farewell.