Psilocybin is a hell of a medicine.


Hard Reset

Every now and again I like to take a bulldozer
to my consciousness, really ram it hard
until all the bricks that are my memories, thoughts,
fears, wishes, unwishes, desires, shames - all of these
lie jumbled together in a silent meaningless mess,
dried plaster crumbling meekly around their edges.

Then the real fun begins. I get to rearrange the bricks:
build new walls; discover new patterns; forgo all patterns;
make mazes, hurdles, mosaics of my synapse firings
until fresh awareness rises from the wreckage, a fortress
from which I can see the world in a whole new light,
nod knowingly, murmur "That's the way. That's the way."



Poetry by Lady Courtaire
Read 277 times
Written on 2021-01-14 at 23:47

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Ducks
I love this conceptually. I am compelled by the idea of tearing down a memory and reconstructing in ways that make more sense. So much of the past doesn't even feel real in some regards, with how tied up in emotion, guilt, and misremembering it all is. I hope the walls build up stronger again. Love your imagery.
2021-01-15



The last line of the first sestet is poetry: exactitude and verbal felicity. The poem as a whole merits highest praise! But I really like that line.
2021-01-15