Mental Disposal

I don't know what's good for me. I'm hooked on what's bad for me and so it's inevitable for me to get lost in the chain of consequences.
Maybe deep inside, somewhere in the corner I know the difference even though I don't seem to act like I do. Down this detrimental path I walk again, it's all the same with the exception of new casualties. Their faces, their words all blurred, all the same.
It's a short worthless road, used too many times, scarred too many times. At first, it's packed with excitement, beauty and adventure but as the journey progresses, the innocent joy fades away like meaningless words written in the sky. The words publicly displayed to mislead people, to make them obsessed with deciphering the words and phrases dripping with meaningless confusion. As the exhilaration disappears boredom comes along and spreads itself wide and thick. It assures unavoidable, boring and dangerous instability.
The heat is addicting, it takes me away from the freezing cold but eventually the fire burns me. The flames can get out of control down this path, it gets dangerous too fast and it burns out. Before I get a chance to escape, before I get a chance to get to safety. Maybe I don't know what I want. But then it's all meaningless junk heading for mental disposal. My thoughts are not constant, they're anything but constant and stable.