I'm shifting away
From this higher state
Of understanding
And distorted reality.

I'll be gone by the morning.

When I'm reduced to crawling
Out of the safety
Of these painkillers,
I hope the breeze is subtle,
Your words are kind,
And I slip quietly
Into the great perhaps

I hope the greenery
Can wrap around my daydreams
And cut the psychic pains
Right out of my eyes.