If the illusion is to be held, make it hideous. Pretty lies slip from the tongue with fervency, but [oh!] the true addictions are beneath in the creative callousness that withers away the bone with crude verbiage. If the illusion is to be held.. twist it, mock it, take stock in it and truly let it grow into something so ravaging that it creates a safe haven of cruel deliverance. Give it a life so grand, that it is boisterously silent, and needs only to be whispered to shake the flesh into submission; where the mind shall follow the spiraling depths of perversion. If ever it did so rattle the cages of beats.. one beyond the other.. to truly sing within the shadows of restlessness.
If the illusion is to be held, make it count. Otherwise..