Psychedelic psychosis,
now is the time to hope.
That I can stay alive,
that I can indeed do this.

That it is somehow possible to cope.
Self destructive dance of desolate doom.
To every hopeful question though the answer is always a regrettable 'nope'.
Tango to the hellaciously hypnotic tune.
Suffering psyche, sad soul prism.
Dive deeper, delve downward, the present is far too soon.
Subtle state of mind seems to smile unfiltered.
Wanting eyes gaze wantonly, ugly and unrated.
Anarchy becomes reality right before me.
No one and nothing these days are truly free.
More problems than solutions leave the restless reject justifiably jaded.

Glass heart caged uncomfortably in a rigid glass prison.
Seen only sparingly through patchwork memories.
Sleep swiftly escapes through the unlocked back door.
Invisible words ascend up and through the ancient wooden floor.
In rhetorical realization,
supremacy is a simplistic superstition.
Weeping willows lethargically wave thier lonely limping leper limbs.
Desperately dodging devious gusts of ice cold wintry wind.
Out of the branches and then down the trunk.
With every step,
life is left a bit more faded.
With every silent step,
I become a bit more jaded.
© Josh Selby