Grim riddles lurk in the recesses of a gnarled and bent wave of darkness

The mental nectar was a phantom

Or perhaps a truth gleaned by the oversight of a mind veiled in the ecstasy of synthetic liberation

Who will ever know if they were truly there on those nights

I care not,

I only seek the shared and communal moment of health that is beheld by real people

Send word to the ghosts that I seek them no more

I have tried and tried again to reckon with them to some resolution

But all I got back was an agitated, silent discomfort after they were gone each morning

What a terrible and blinding cycle I now will escape with ease and fervent purpose

The eye of the storm is calm, but the center cannot hold

I have sojourned into the deeps of the human mind

And I have slain and been dismembered by the beasts above my neck

Where is the philosopher’s stone to harmonize this egregious display into the primordial foundation?

I know not, for it forsakes me everyday at three o’clock

There’s no rental period on contentment, unless you pay twice

It’s always paid for by agony you’ve never known

So I’ll endure the summits and valleys of untrodden experiences

While all that is not me continues to dance in my peripherals

If only I had asked for it