This life will be my own. Even though these drugs are changing me, changing life, opening my eyes again after such a stagnant year.
These results are desired. And yet... yet making me question the truth of myself. How much of this is me? Enjoying these smiles but how long before the paranoia solidifies and I don't know where I begin anymore?

A windy smile in my line of view, beckon me with your optimism and hope. Wayside hips, that perfect fit. And all such colours as if you just sprung forth from the Earth like a carbon child with an atmospheric heart.

My fish is dying. Iolo, the aquatic firework. Resting and splayed upon the bottom of the box, tilted towards the wall looking nothing short of pathetic. Movement, like he suddenly remembered that he had to breathe. Meanwhile Ray-Ray's making bubbles, telling me that he's ready to mate and so my mind leads elsewhere from that...

Smokey darkness of passion, passion fruit, passion kiss. The spicy smells of new memories and your shoulder blades. Too bad cliche is always true. Thoughts but these just don't matter because dreams on paper are so far from poetry.