When I was young,
My family would tell me stories,
Page-less literature fed
To me, an endless fantasy
About magic and fairies,
And trees taller than skyscrapers.
And then my stories became centered
Around chemical magic,
Fairies found in pill bottles,
Scattered literature now invaded my mind,
And my veins,
Jesus Christ, save my tearless euphoria.
Blackness became heaven,
White became guilt,
Red became a mistake,
Green became frustration,
And grey became the world.
