Too many chemicals make
me feel dirty & used
like a prostitute in the
most crimson of districts;
drowning out the white noise,
static cling, a television
on with nothing on.

It makes me forget that
reality is a tangible thing,
molded & fleshy like a
human being; with no fast
forward or rewind, it’s a steady
whisper in the back of my
mind.

I embrace it and spend time
trying to converse with a dream,
sifting through fact & fiction,
craving knowledge like an
addiction, I’m just looking for
wisdom in an immortal forest
of dead trees.

If I had wings, well,
I’d be free,
but I’m forced to settle
with the human disease,
dimensions are my demons
and I always
entertain my guests,
metaphysically functioning
in a world of unrest.

I wish I had a plan, but really I don’t,
I’m just a squatter living in a
tent of illusions, fueling my
delusions, letting everyone in
& out of a revolving door that
goes only one way - around.

Things are getting foggy, I
squint to see, shapes and
silhouettes, turn my brights
off but it still doesn’t help the
fact that water always reflects
light, I take a step on a wave &
sink before I have a chance to say
goodbye.

I’m a scuba diver now, low on
oxygen and high on adrenaline,
I feel the pressure against my
chest & it makes my heart
struggle to beat, my sinoatrial and atrioventricular nodes aren’t
acting how they usually
do, but I smile and hope that none
of my wishes ever turn true.