Natural Fiction

 We think, for an instant
That the lights and the sights are the unmissables,
The unforgettable unmistakables whose conceited caresses light a puppet show of splendour,
Of glamour and awe.
Landmarks,
And wonders
Scatter the lands with their overrated allure,
And giddy grandeur,
The hundred or so wonders of a disappointing world.
 
Nature,
Lulls susceptible hearts into its careful trap,
A mirage of beauty, a dreamy flawless nirvana
Making lost souls follow,
Slowly losing more of themselves than that with which they started,
Their eyes concealed with a deathly pink-tinted shade,
Looking for answers.
Answers that cannot be
found,
And will not be found
In a place like this
Or a place like anywhere.
 
Answers seep like crying wounds from the soul,
And are ignored and left to fall into the endless oblivion of ridiculous romanticism
And blinding ignorance.
 
Before diving into star-crossed escapism,
Look no further
Than the medicinal oozing within the unembellished mortality
Gifted with every heartbeat
And rush of blood to every corner of that fateful figure
And heal your tender quandaries
Without the need for the artificial highs bestowed by the bogus beauties
That make a heart skip a beat,
But only for a second.
 
The timeless morphine
trickles gently into a wounded bloodstream,
Never to leave,
An everlasting endorphin.
No comedowns,
No return to a harsh reality with no empty seat for empty souls,
But to an authentic Elysium
Bound by the tight hand of actuality,
Comforting and controlling,
Perfect, but perfectly flawed,
The endless nirvana of an everlasting mind.