I've got contentment
Not a thing is out of place.
Being hooked on a feeling

Now my mind is blank
Any word once possessed
Flew consternated away
All I'm left with is nonsense
Words that mean nothing
Like a worthless crystal fish
Collecting dust behind the glass.

Am I collecting dust?
Or is it I who stirs it up?
See what I mean?
For once words are useless
Being a hinderence not a help
When one feels nothing or ture
Judging what is said all uttered it blasphmous
Obsolete in this jungle of our senses
Holding by a pinky grip.
My pen ending the misery.

ture=feeling everything at once"