Insanity

Parts of my life, fragment slowly in front of my eyes.
No longer searching meaning, from any greater profound;
Simply engaged in pleasure, without any flint of regret.
Happy with all ever received, indulging in self conceive.
Reassured by the voice in the back.
Unsure of what lay ahead.
But matters, not much for all within a reach.
Only destiny, flirting at the tip.
Tantalizingly close, yet a centimeter apart
With non what so ever regard.
Instilling fate in greed, not quite.
Best left untouched, a virgin from mortal hands.
Links are created, only if seen differently.
Then all can be perceived appreciate fully.