Narc discussions part II.. (Faith versus reality in a wasteland of dreams)

Art by Zdzisław Beksiński

Is this me in the gloaming. Where wrack hangs heavy on an under belly that is cut. The no light place where skulls crown bleached and blackened. Like a string of thick nothings that fray to thin. Each one an emaciated hope that boiled down in the nether. Where is the meat of means? Do dreams float? Or has this all been for nothing? MB