still....

I drift here
barely in the balance
holding this space
occupying time
covering you with
the thought of how
I want to spend my time
this mess
that I have ingested
is just another
fantasy an addiction
to a style of destruction
a must have reduction
of this obstruction
I can only let you see
the very part of me
that is the shell of how
I see these places
should look
how I should cook
this recipe
for my own destructive
entity
a vital part of my
identity
but not to falsify
and unjustified
this conception
of this mass deception
on the reality of mine
and how I really
spend all my time
a quaker state
of lubbed up fate
a slippery state of mishap
to mistake
there is nothing to debate
its just a road of fate
if you can understand the
lack of mistake
its just a literal debate
on the eventual path
that has driven us past
this point of dimensions
inside this suspension of
my outside from within
a place I've never been
before this time I see
are you still here with me?