otherside

 

i cant help but constantly find myself wondering, are they already dead? the person who would have understood me the most. that is like me and me like them. that would have unraveled our strayd threads and dyed our souls back to color. did they kill themselves already? are they already gone? did we miss each other? this world is so chaotic and noisy and cavernous and the voices bounce in discordance across narrow gaps in chambers filled with glowing gold resin that turns to seeds and cones and trees and pyramids but there is nothing left for me, there was nothing ever here in the first place, there was nothing real, not you or me or that tree or the seed or the dog in the window, just manifestations, hallucinations more like, all this is just a big mindfuck a big old dick in the ear