I Could Live in Hope

He layed in his room, stoned in the mess he created.  There were no torture devices, only blood.  It was difficult to comprehend what it all meant.  He should have known it was coming.  Too tired to try to fix it.  Images were moving, and he had to see what they were doing.  It was the family, cannabis, and the intrigue of their motives that moved around him.  It was the strings of the violin and the voice of a heroin that flowed through his veins.  He couldn't move.  He just wanted to take in the beauty that he felt.

It was at this time in a man's life when he realized that in order to become a better person he must first overcome his sin of laziness.