C A V E R N

White drugs flow through the aisles of the isle, the veins of my frame like greasy gin drowns Air Strip One.
awake.
not sad.

sleep.

emotionally and functionally malleable

biomechanical

engine.

For every problem there is a chemical compound and a brand name.

Procured via prescription or easily accessible pharmaceutical websites or over the counter with scant, legally required warning. Or via a phone number given from a friend of a friend of a friend, exchanged for clumps of pitched-in notes and used to chase the dying embers of a laugh you made some hours ago that reminded you what it was like to be a child. A scant refusal to bury ourselves or be limited to our circumstantial or biological lot.

A lie we tell ourselves.

We are in control.

We are really in control.