the old days were the gold days

i'm no seer, no scryer, peering into murk, fishing for the future, prying into the dark with heavily gloved fingers, straining for impossibly transferable detail, but i am an invader, a sapper, tunneling beneath you, desperate to penetrate, willfully encroaching upon your sacred grounds, skulking about, after your treasure, knowing full well that all of your jewels are but reflections, waiting to be disturbed so as to ripple away.
My lack of foresight tells me that every thing turns out with the idiot grin and the blank, doe stare and the vacuous laugh and the hollow ringing of your heart, and my lack of foresight shows me that I can get deep inside and stay awhile, becoming a prisoner to your platitudes, becoming dependant on your spoiled milk because I will eventually lose the taste for clean and healthy living.
In the end it will all have been worth it; it's another lesson learned, another chapter scrawled in my bloody ink into my dark codex, forever locked away and forever remembered.

until the next time.