November 11, 2009
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I stopped
No artwork in this frame, but a mirror
Grass greener on the other side
But mountains blocked my vision
Rising so high into emptiness
A land secretly polluted, longing for green leaves in freezing weather
Clocks melted by every temptation
Flies decaying my time every line I cut
I stood in shadows, though blue skies were near
Another gram takes me a couple steps back
Should I make a run for it, climb the cliff of withdrawal
Take a leap, and just build my parachute on the way down
Or stand numb, as my future drips away before my eyes
Surrounded by a gold frame, perfectly wrapped like a present
An unfortunate gift I was destined to receive

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