trip
why does it seem now
that I've learnt how
this warm and fragile
this world's been all this while
how I came to be
like billions of other
bundles of flesh
from within Mother
how I strove to be free
of all that tissue
that binds me
to the issue
of all those assembled
in vain
for I stumbled
upon the opiate of pain
in youth and it's sensations
full to the brim
the false lacerations
of imagined sin
the sweet numbness of melancholy
the gray fatalism of wasting away
those symptoms of romantic folly
that holds unalloyed sway
I swallowed all too readily
in my rush to heroic surrender
to mortality in spite, headily
to tear my self asunder