The Last Trip

It's cold and clear
and my hot young breath hangs in the night air
as I climb out of my bedroom window
and start the nightmare.

"Take this blotter,
and if you don't feel nothing, take the other"
were the instructions from the dealer
as I left to find my brother.

I took the first
and realized it wouldn't slake my juvenile thirst
for introspective adventure, so I ate the second
and just made things worse.

It wasn't long until
reality melted away, and time stood still.
Throat parched, drinking from stranger's garden hoses,
shivering in the November chill.

Dawn broke the pale sky with a crack
and I found myself trapped
in fits and starts and indecision
in a suburban cul-de-sac.

I could rule the world
I could know the face of God
I could be a better human
I could right all my wrongs
if only I could make my way back home.

Synapses fried
that morning when I almost died,
breaking my mind with an overdose
of lysergic acid diethylamide.

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