reality is for people who can’t handle drugs

easy now
time is a fra­gile word
betrays its obscur­ity like a whisper
past and future blend into a dream
that might come true.
life’s a series of physicalities
but how to report myself
on the miss­ing per­sons list
remains a problem.
it used to be I could look into
a poem, and even when the mirror
rejec­ted me, I’d be lying there
silently in my words, waiting.

easy now
one word breaks it
shat­ters its mys­ter­ies like a blind
snaps open to the sun.
If life glides like this
I’ll die of bore­dom, but
belief insists on continuing
des­pite everything.
soft, slide into accept­ance and
matur­ity that approaches deathly-slow
easy now.