Adrift, wheels spun across the sky
upon gentle cloud, floating thereby
I've left the twaddle well behind
arriving at new states of mind.
Life, repetitive onerous tedium,
requires elevation, a new medium
on which to place the paints,
releasing the mind's restraints.
Liberated from hobbled sensibilities,
rinsed with synthetic sensitivities,
consciousness open, staring, awake
enlivened grey matter, set to bake.
Entheogen shimmer at edge of eye,
that indistinct hum, then fireflies,
a few of my favorites, a sentiment
which fails to leave me penitent.