Salvia

Deigned on the designer Lysergic dots, forming liquid dreams from a paper ream.

Fed on the fungal lattice work of a psychedelic knee-jerk into my personal

symposium on the ways things were, are and always shall be.

Licked the mescaline from the rim of the powder,

not too far gone from the extasy power and on I stand,

alone and strong on this pedestal of confident experiment.

Each attachment to the eye and brain I worked for the intent of

controlled insane,

and yet HOW,

yet HOW does a man engorged in his habit,

not expect it to one day find him and bite back?

Limp and dead away I found myself in a truth to say,

the way I might envision hell if hell was earth and earth was hell today.

Enclosed in the skin I hadn't awakened to until the fume had reached

my lung,

and then and then it wasn't much when I closed my eyes and lost the touch

of a reality I had once known,

or thought I had.

There before me was the avatar of sad,

of despair and fear,

of neurosis and lingering doubt

about the conformity of substance,

physical reality and thought.

Embraced I was in the awkward state of a wrapping

consciousness I could not debate.

Here I thought I would be lost for good,

until the voice came as I knew it would.

I came back quite slowly,

deformed from my face,

entering a new world

and awaking to a new race.

So here my friends the tale comes to an end,

as quick as it finished from whence it began.