Moonlit silohuettes dance across the bathroom walls,
Spoon filled with no less than a sugar cube as water falls.
The boundaries of this room have become a canvas of:
Art, Absence, & Silence.
Soundless & free to consume with cannabis;
Now I lay 'Absinthe-minded...'
Unable to speak,
Answer to seek,
Reaching my peak...
Can you hear the cries of the "Accent-Blinded"?
Beneath the surface of water in this bathtub - My Lake...
Wait...Just concentrate, let my mind repeat the statement just made.
Could this really be true...is this really 'MY' Lake?
'MY' Water? 'MY' Spoon? 'MY' Reality of Sin?
The Green Fairy called me Napolean amongst these waters below;
Pardon my French, but it seems this story is fucked like Nemo -
Cursed to swim without the right Fin...
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