The apologetic apothecary​

You are only as happy as you think you are.

Some are born happy, some have happiness bought upon them.

The most fortunate exude happiness like our 21st century Dr. Robert, juvenile, gentle angelic, Jesus of the Rave. Tuned in, dark web dealer, dropping out in deep waters of the mind.

Unwary of his wonderland wares partakes with pleasure,

No toe dipping. Trips headfirst into illusory oceans.

A nose narcotic knows, ecstasy elixirs, opiate apparitions, DMT potions, LSD labyrinths, spice of life. Selling serotonin, drug dreams, brain bombs, real unreal realities, fun and funny fags. Highs in posting psychonauts payloads; blasting them into diamond skies.

But clarity through the clouds a chemical conscience troubled over dispensing deliriums of death.

We all comedown, fallacies finish, smoke and coke off mirrors crack with a bar to the face, out of joint, a £30K hole. Visions cease in seizures.

“I’d not slept for a month before coming away. I wanted to get the partying out of my system” and well-being

Sober, springy survivor beatific beanpole retains Cheshire cat cool calm.


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