Tuesday, July 19, 2016



We’re all self-medicated.
Some of us addicted to Cheetos that turn our fingers Donald Trump orange.
Some of us addicted to heroin that turns our souls pitch black.
Some of us addicted to this nothingness that’s killing us in little and large bits.

What if I pretend you’re Sartre as No Exit becomes all too familiar in our censored lives.
I expect nothing and know you expect even less. Our match was made in both Heaven and Hell as we defy gravity and start believing in liberty for all the non-citizens.
Let’s redact our most harmful of memories and promise never to take a full stomach for granted.

We’re all self-medicated.
Some of us swear on the Bible because believing is believed to be the cosmic glue.
Some of us don’t need anything but a pallet on the floor to get them through.
Some of us are addicted to the spark that occurs when the right two words ignite.

Charles Cicirella

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