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.


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