The collaboration,
Of mind altering substances,
And the presence of time.
Are in deep rotation,
As the chemicals begin to secrete.
There are now new sights and visions,
Waiting for us to meet.
The ones once known,
Start to dissipate.
The Collective Unconscious,
Begins to create.
The afterbirth of the past tense,
And the flowing of time.
The spaces in between,
Make it easy to rhyme.
Once all is set,
To go out and conceive.
Distractions come into play,
And make it hard to achieve.
Nevertheless the cognitions will return.
For the distractions will leave,
Something new to learn.
Someone else’s perception,
Of space and time.
Some missing pieces of life’s potential,
And have given myself a chance to find.
Other forms and ways of life,
And with the serrated edge,
Of this knife.
I wield so tautly, free but firm.
Holding down so not to squirm.
For if it is lost,
Then who shall know,
And only I will be left,
To sit and grow,
Of old age, soon to die.
Left is this body,
Forced blinded eye.