Every inhale is ecstatic,
Every exhale makes you quiver.
You look at your hand;
Slightly blurred picture of your fingers.
You lay back.
It consumes you,
The secret stalks every thought of yours,
Getting a better grip.
You try turning your head,
But you’re drugged and half-paralyzed.
You’re at the edge,
The very edge of yourself. Can you look behind it?
Your skeleton will stay in that car forever;
I’ll be the last one standing up
After the infernal rain of damnation.