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