Hello,
my ghosts.

Are you there?
Seldom,
did I think so.

Naively,
does one hope
for reprieve.

We live,
aware...
only in the moments
between time.

Is it any wonder
addiction seeks such,
and relentlessly, at that.

Wait not,
to trip the light fantastic.

For, to do so,
is ever beyond our reach.

An admirable example of,
the carrot, and the stick.

I now realize,
every man is broken,
eventually.

Hence,
the plethora of
examinations,

Explanations,
of such-
are just psychological

Surveys of us,
never breaking
the crust.

They see so succinctly
for an hour.
And then pronounce
your label.

Your fate.

The fate
of all men
is the grave,

Meine freunde.

Weine nicht
um mich,
Argentina.