Yes me, I am a firsttimeuser – I’m still not used to the practical dosage
That a spoon can hold, the many times this room can turn
To fastfluorescent acid. Though ascended, I’ve still pretended
I’m less me than I should be, that I value your sincerity –
That there’s something wise to bending, losing 5kgs/hour,
Buying flour to sell cocaine so we can get more flour.
Six nights past, returns: special needs and nosebleeds,
Morning rituals and broken leads;
Mysteries I can read about, loud and in a tone of accusation,
Threshold soon surpassed by a brilliance of years,
A dread turning of old fears and worlds I’m not to be allowed into.
Once captive to sobriety, rigour morphis sets most violently.
I’m wanted near and wanted willing,
But never feeling that it matters
How close I choose to go about my habits.
With one breath I will be this evening’s revelation,
This broken body’s late rebellion. Yes her, she’ll be
The hands of my acceptance.
All love and lapse I’ve been drawn into,
Lashing out against remorse —
Making Life out of lost senses.