[ Feathers on the highway ]
Feathers on the highway
That is what I was
What I still may be.
Something so pure and free that does not belong
a red stain on the pavement
white feathers stuck to carnage
baking in the sun.
It shouldnt have touched the ground in the first place.
The first time I tripped I felt so free-
wings unfurling
the breeze tickling them
making the world shudder with brilliance
dropping me to my knees
under the weight
of such immense beauty.
The world was made of smiling mouths with teeth,
all laughing jubilantly
dancing up and down the walls.
Landscapes made of moving patterns opened up before me
bursting with flowers and mountains and lakes.
My eyes were wet the entire time.
The second time I tripped,
The same beauty took me
but this world was different from the last time.
It was a world so intense I had to remind myself to breathe
for the world kept snatching the air right from my lungs.
For awhile, it was just as beautiful as the time before- if not moreso
The world was neon and utterly shuttering with beauty
tiny white things flew and darted at the edges of my vision,
playful and innocent.
Everything was patterned, and colors changed constantly
The world moved while I laid still.
My eyes were beautifully wet again.
Then, suddenly
As quick as a switch
All of that beauty collapsed. The music stopped somehow.
The mouths with teeth had grown fangs.
I opened to door and he was vomiting all over my porch.
Bright, orange, angry fungus sprouting green hairs and tiny green bugs.
It grew and grew, I begged him for help and he yelled at me
Refused to even try to clean up his own vomit.
I felt like we were trapped on that porch for an entire week.
I kept running inside and panicking.
I saw the bottle of valerian root on my counter
knowing if I just took a few pills, it would all go away
The horrible feelings
The constant sounds of retching that werent even happening anymore
but it was all I could hear.
I knew, though, if I were to take the vitamins, escape into sleep-
I would leave him on my porch. Helpless.
Staring at the ground unable to take care of himself-
and I sacrificed a part of myself in that moment.
I grabbed an extra broom, filled a pan with water,
and faced my fears, even with the terror clawing at my throat
with tiny claws.
I poured and I swept and I tried hard to tell myself to think of the angry fungus as pumpkins, something far more innocent.
I saw a terrible, white-gray, blue veined thing, and I was terrified that he was dying.
That we were dying.
That we were trapped in this world forever,
because every minute felt like an hour
and an hour felt like years.
And my eyes were still wet
but it no longer held any beauty.
only horror.
All I could feel was that everything felt wrong
This wasnt supposed to happen
The gods were angry
We should have listened when we were told these ones were different,
but instead we laughed in the faces of the gods
and doubled the reccomended dosage.
I dont know about him, but I payed dearly.
The shroom gods took a part of my soul.
They showed me, that if they wanted- they could keep me
and I would never be okay again.
I was given a second chance.
I could have been stuck in that world, and I wonder, if I had escaped into sleep
if I would still be there today.
I'd like to think the shroom gods gave me a second chance because
instead of running away when things went bad
I gave away a part of my soul to help another person.
Even if, in the real world, that person cannot be helped.
It was the effort that counted.
It was the showing of my true nature,
the baring of my soul to those gods
and the sacrificing of a little part of it
that saved me.
Off and on, I feel that terror again,
clawing its way up my throat
with tiny claws
and my eyes are wet again
and I feel as rotten
as feathers on the highway-
something that was once so free and pure
reduced to white feathers
stuck to carnage
baking in the sun.
Whenever the re-birthing process is over,
I hope to come out brand new
blessed once again with purity and freedom
better than before.
And maybe my soul will once again
be free of any holes.
That is what I was
What I still may be.
Something so pure and free that does not belong
a red stain on the pavement
white feathers stuck to carnage
baking in the sun.
It shouldnt have touched the ground in the first place.
The first time I tripped I felt so free-
wings unfurling
the breeze tickling them
making the world shudder with brilliance
dropping me to my knees
under the weight
of such immense beauty.
The world was made of smiling mouths with teeth,
all laughing jubilantly
dancing up and down the walls.
Landscapes made of moving patterns opened up before me
bursting with flowers and mountains and lakes.
My eyes were wet the entire time.
The second time I tripped,
The same beauty took me
but this world was different from the last time.
It was a world so intense I had to remind myself to breathe
for the world kept snatching the air right from my lungs.
For awhile, it was just as beautiful as the time before- if not moreso
The world was neon and utterly shuttering with beauty
tiny white things flew and darted at the edges of my vision,
playful and innocent.
Everything was patterned, and colors changed constantly
The world moved while I laid still.
My eyes were beautifully wet again.
Then, suddenly
As quick as a switch
All of that beauty collapsed. The music stopped somehow.
The mouths with teeth had grown fangs.
I opened to door and he was vomiting all over my porch.
Bright, orange, angry fungus sprouting green hairs and tiny green bugs.
It grew and grew, I begged him for help and he yelled at me
Refused to even try to clean up his own vomit.
I felt like we were trapped on that porch for an entire week.
I kept running inside and panicking.
I saw the bottle of valerian root on my counter
knowing if I just took a few pills, it would all go away
The horrible feelings
The constant sounds of retching that werent even happening anymore
but it was all I could hear.
I knew, though, if I were to take the vitamins, escape into sleep-
I would leave him on my porch. Helpless.
Staring at the ground unable to take care of himself-
and I sacrificed a part of myself in that moment.
I grabbed an extra broom, filled a pan with water,
and faced my fears, even with the terror clawing at my throat
with tiny claws.
I poured and I swept and I tried hard to tell myself to think of the angry fungus as pumpkins, something far more innocent.
I saw a terrible, white-gray, blue veined thing, and I was terrified that he was dying.
That we were dying.
That we were trapped in this world forever,
because every minute felt like an hour
and an hour felt like years.
And my eyes were still wet
but it no longer held any beauty.
only horror.
All I could feel was that everything felt wrong
This wasnt supposed to happen
The gods were angry
We should have listened when we were told these ones were different,
but instead we laughed in the faces of the gods
and doubled the reccomended dosage.
I dont know about him, but I payed dearly.
The shroom gods took a part of my soul.
They showed me, that if they wanted- they could keep me
and I would never be okay again.
I was given a second chance.
I could have been stuck in that world, and I wonder, if I had escaped into sleep
if I would still be there today.
I'd like to think the shroom gods gave me a second chance because
instead of running away when things went bad
I gave away a part of my soul to help another person.
Even if, in the real world, that person cannot be helped.
It was the effort that counted.
It was the showing of my true nature,
the baring of my soul to those gods
and the sacrificing of a little part of it
that saved me.
Off and on, I feel that terror again,
clawing its way up my throat
with tiny claws
and my eyes are wet again
and I feel as rotten
as feathers on the highway-
something that was once so free and pure
reduced to white feathers
stuck to carnage
baking in the sun.
Whenever the re-birthing process is over,
I hope to come out brand new
blessed once again with purity and freedom
better than before.
And maybe my soul will once again
be free of any holes.