A willing submission,
To curb my ambition
Because I am not confident enough
Don't believe enough
In my ability
to repel hostility
from my own mind
the voice inside my head
the scared,
fearful
living dead
From high to low
I keep telling myself I can go
To the stars
And beyond
Transported by hits from the bong
Made real with a pill
Of that MDMA
These feelings fall away
The very next day.
Barriers all round
I sit glum on the ground
Searching the crevices
For a fragment of that dopamine bliss
The rush of clarity
The escape from disparity
And lack of understanding
Of my mission in this life
YOU ARE READING
Homegrown POEMS
PoetryThey forced their way to the surface and my fingers did as they were told.
