Milk crates... they're not just for milk anymore.

Psychedelics swarm my brain
the rope affects me by the grade
snow has caused my nose to drain
come on, electric cool aid

Tie it tight; the flame's a fuss
release the knot and and feel the rush
catch the buzz and spread ethereal wings
didn't even mind the sting.

It used to bother me.

Soaring high I scan the tracks
that seem to congregate in packs
in ugly lines they make attacks
along one's visible veined backs.

I wonder where they lead.

Crystal swirling in my grain
sweet embrace of grapes once trod
the hops play with me little games
is this the nectar of the gods?

I believe I've put time in a bottle.

I search, sometimes, for a place to land
but clouds are constant, all around,
like thinking through a velvet band
I never seem to touch the ground.

How long since last I was down?

I really don't remember.

I fear the total uncontrol
and impulse urges me to flee
I can run until I'm old
but how do I run from me?

Trapped.

This situation calls for change
what's left of thought,
I need to know,
is there still time to clear the brain?

I'll let all my monkeys go.

Do you think I will regain
does the brain remain the same
would it be a crying shame
were I never me again?

How could I ever know?

I didn't write that; I edited it a bit, but that's not even kind of the same thing. I do dearly love the man who, in 1980, wrote it and it affected me greatly. The lines struck fear deep into my little burgeoning control freak soul. Scared me off many drugs, to be certain.

If only he had written something as powerful about the dangers of falling in love. My heart may never have been broken.