The Power of Psychedelics

Closing my eyelids in the sunlight,

I remember why

it is a blessing for blurry lines.

When objects fade into objects

so that there is only one,

I feel saved from having to be someone.

The regular, steep delineations from person

to person, from one life to the next,

compartmentalizes the world into

boxes and boxes within which we need

craftier tools to escape.

There are no straight lines in nature.

Change was demonized along with women.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s