Drop of Morphine

It’s morphine, the words, the books

The dull clutch of sanity warping the hole into a palatable swallow

Years drive varied diseases vantage poisons to fancy anesthesia

In lacquered gleams upon the table a hand descends

To pick a cup, vial, syringe, belief system, page

Chips like coins of sandy dust glassed in vessels

To expunge malicious credit accrued

A devil’s debtor’s prison lock shackle struck indentured

To an understanding that this appliance is the only space to hide

The binding of the library covers like epidermis sheets

To unfold and crawl inside the mind of another human’s madness

The escape gag, the lifeboat dingy in the great big ocean

Hours of maze time rented amongst the dead

The ones who knew there is no place safe

The yawn of the universe mires consciousness

The racks, the food-stuffs, the techno-gyros

Are illusionist’s prestige in a mirrored appearance

The gaping circus is a refraction of ideas about ideas

How one approaches the high wire is more critical

Than if one falls or traverses the exposure

The exposure in itself is a lie; nowhere is harbor

The enfilade’s reach is absolute because there is

No alone or together only perspective

Vacationing, exploring daring into the wild wind canyon ledge

The cityscape Metropolitan framed digital crutch

The painting, the theater, the masked burlesque

The quotidian crocodile’s clenched jaw

None of it is special or miraculous

Only effused presence; distance is an illusion

No matter Thailand, Rio, or New Orleans

The reverberating hum of what love is

Echoes like owl eyes blinking in infinite darkness

Seeing us, is us, but we see nil, staring at us always

A perfection of consciousness independent of location

Time, or matter, we are imbibing the morphine of the moment

The whisky, the dote to progeny, the dollar margin call

The holiday-effusiveness gilded in cheer frosted purpose

Dangling as calendar’s rotate charming annotations

The blasphemy to stare another human in the eyes prolonged

Sustained, ambiguous, totality of awareness

To see with them, through, in, and as them

The gobble of consumerist incidences quelled

To be and ask not the petty hungers of how do I make you feel

How are you in this moment, but to witness

To give the awe of aching movement swarming as the echo

The gong flush of time careening off the wire, as the wire, and before the wire

The trepidation, the love, fear, and accomplishment known and unknown

Beaming out of possibility itself flush in the duality of cheeks and irises

Panning into and out of the other, being

The books the poetry they are morphine to digest, to be with

The presence and absence of that realization

Maybe one took to a sports match, a pool cue, a pipe, a fabric brushed to skin

Tasting that dangle of time, eyes making liquid poetry

The paradigm that registers with this tongue

The glutton parched and famished in the aftermath

The depressive cork catapult launched

Some hours reek of death like a lust-lick bullet to mate

As if escape were available, the maze gave a rudder on the great big ocean

The stage of the toes on the wire to become relevant

Laughter haughty and muted in the belly of such arrogance

There is no end for there was no beginning

Maybe some authors knew and readers are looking to confirm

The not so kept secret radiating right out the page

Like nuclear material humming the radix of the gods

Fantastical prodigious luster

That the hunger to simply be

Be in the universe through the portal of the self with others

Conveyed and understood in the empathy of consciousness

Addicted to the drug of wanting to be

Knowing how clear the table, how ready to release grip

On identity, musts, have to’s, will not’s, and are not able’s

Into is, am, and breathing inhales and exhales moments

Terrifying luscious drinks of life savored in tongue to lung

Separating body from the act, seeing every artistic motion

Of volition to create, risk, and stroke will to canvas

Being a bead of painted ink absorbing and dissolving instantaneously