...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLMYs0vmzqE&ab_channel=DLoaw

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Sleepless nights,

Countless, beaming lights -

A dripping taste of ether

Suffused into the powder - 

.

I've never much cared for events like these:

They're busy, dirty; people race to venture nowhere,

Dilated and wide, sprinting only to bounce 

Disoriented and scattered 

.

Abruptly off 

Of one another.

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A week long bacchanalia - a dip into the reptilian, into the 

Long dormant animal 

That rests, enfolded, 

Behind the civil veneer of our daily faces.

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Events like these have more to do 

With escaping 

That which asphyxiates within the world

Than it does, towards turning inwards 

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And probing those hidden truths

That lay uncharacterized,

Unchartered or unmarked, 

And waiting with exact decision 

.

There, within ourselves.

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Fine, white powder - crushed with a credit card

And arranged into tedious, little lines: 

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One of few ways I've found

To make the party tolerable.

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