Ambrosia
I got a dose of morphine after days of pain,
the words flew from my hand to the pixel-screen;
All the lies and the truths become fragments together,
dripping down into my arm through the IV.
Preservation of my shelled vegetable self--
I've been reborn into this world where sin
is considered by some to be anything
that we have the ability to take pleasure in.
Cables and wires that float my corporeal self
into every direction that thought patterns roam--
Comprehension dawns, then sets, in my Eastern horizon,
just a flicker of knowledge as the solution keeps flowing;
Sending me messages so electronically medicinal,
soothing and coddling prepubescent fantasies
I've been trying to throw into the used syringe bin.
A withdrawal period of only some hours
reaches into my core and makes my senses opaque;
I can't help this addiction or the fact I allow it,
this rehabilitation that they've put vegetables through
sits them down on the floor with their words sliding over;
Endless streams making dreams that they'll never reach for.
