Invite me into your quick and solitary, experiential ways, I beg.
I felt that burn, only slightly, regionally accustomed and glass eyed.
Drunk on a druid's herbal draught, mesmerized at the winter solstice.
I have seen what I am not supposed to; I have tapped the invisible line.
Words cannot explain the images and this side doesn't seem real enough.
I dove in, submerged, letting myself sink, swimming towards the bottom.
It's not that I am discontent, but I need things transparent; darkly luminous.
I don't fall, catch myself, but I do run, and, at times, I save the dear to me.
There are foreign places where people often walk these trails with me.
Sadly, though, it is only because their taste is not refined enough.
Me, I live for, the thrill of, the next rabbit hole, but unlike the girl
I am in control.
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