This is a drug. Sculpted by a set of hand cuffs made of plaster. Not my finest creation, but this is not my finest hour. It sits and bakes in the wake off the addict. Hidden somewhere among the weeds and the trees and the flowers. Only another who suffers could understand it’s power. How it grows and holds. Expanding from the molds which housed it. A plant in the mind of those who know where to look. Where to find such meaningless things in wish filled dreams. Only they can understand. This drug. Sculpted by a set of plasterd handcuffs. This isn’t my finest creation but it only took an hour. I can choose to give it power or I can choose to throw it away. I am the addict who hides. Among the tree and and weeds and thorns. Watching as it expands from the molds I sculpted. I leave meaning in its creations. Define it by wish filled dreams. Only I can understand it. This is a drug.
A/N I can’t sleep again. I can feel the cycle starting. How empty i feel. I am sharing this one ahead of schedule because…well because it makes no sense. And I need to empty my mind right now before everything starts fading again.