snapping the light, let it bust outward instead of straight and true

to taste it once again, to fall into that cage of distortion, or incoherence, or revelation, of the stereotype.
I know this isnt good, me missing it, but my plans thoughts dreams goals decisions adventures were so much better before I lost it all. Even right before a hair cut, there was some remainder. Im ashamed, as I think anyone in a similar position should be, but I realize that these events of the past are all I have to link me artistically to those monuments. It isnt uncommon, its far more acceptable than one in the light would at first believe, and it was only for experience.

I've had that experience now, so i need to stop. whats done is done, and I wont let the habit strike back.
After all, I choose to forget the bad trips. And I only really miss the clarity, the pristine muddyness of the mind. Making sense and having epiphanies only to forget an hour later. Writing was so much easier then. Conversing with strangers was exciting and welcome. Avoiding authorities was a gamble on the whole deal.
The other side
of distortion.