Vodka would be good.
White amnesia. Sleeping freefall.
From abrasive, toxic, agony… reality.
Glaring scrutiny of my naked, broken soul.
Strength pleads fiercely for recess.
Inhaling deep, under a crushing, acrid ocean.
From plastic smiling cold, lonely frown.
For an inviting audience of his mocking fools.
mmmm white amnesia...
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