“It makes you feel perfect.” They say.
They say, “It makes you pick that expressionless
nodding head up off of the cement and view
Nature. See the wonders of the world unfurl
before your very eyes in the pattern we call fate.”
They beckon, “Come with us. In the world where
wild fields of poppy bloom. Where the mystical
pot plant grows in the wild, dripping with fresh
honey-like residew.”
But have you all missed for sure the intense heart beats?
The ghastly-white clouds blown out of your mouth
like your spirit screaming for escape?
Have you missed the opressions? Depressions?
Soul sessions?
Have you missed life as we know it? (Melting into
the past, future, and never the moment?)
Have you missed the restrictions? Addictions?
Crucifixions?
The butt-naked bluesy beats of the blacks?
Wondering why they would write of which?
I know I have.
And like a vodka-drunken schoolgirl,
I can’t help but to say
that I’m loving every minute of it.
