Trip 1

A Poem by ecr

Five in pairs of two, five fingers softly tuning God particles into me,
Soft deep whispers dripping into my ears,
Electric Lullabies charging my cautious butterfly. . . wings,
You know, that’s the same movement of my heart.

White smoke �" white as the walls, as the curtains,
Whiter than the light winding through the window,
Bleaching all of it, all my thoughts flushing upwards,
Falling like our stars �" soon.

Family and love will disappear. I’ll be alone with myself,
What I dread.
It’s not being shot dead, having to lay my bed. . .
It’s the monsters in my head, the ones I fought,
Yesterday. . .