2.5 GRAMS OF HASH

head like cotton
concern past and forgotten
I’m not even here I’m not even human
I don’t exist;
lost in a different
brand new unexplored dimension
number 7 of the 10
string theory like an acoustic guitar
like ancient Hindu texts that read like German physicists
does anyone know the name of the cat in Schrödinger’s damned box

lost
in the forest of my mind
contemplative head wandering in thoughts
what new wonders will I find

to leave me
like leaves from trees
drifting in breeze

twisting syllables
into tales
that tell parallels
of the loose perils
that we all face everyday
twisting syllables
into tales
that tell parallels
of the beautiful trials
we all face everyday

© workingclassproduction.com, 2014

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