And I sit smoking high on my mushroom
reading a role call for every single raindrop,
I the imitation of a lesser God, though I may
not be so small and able, I the perfect paradox,
wearing shoes without socks and beds without
blankets, and I the gravitational pull, sitting smoking
at the center of the universe, and I the holy caterpillar,
turning my lungs into butterflies, and I the unbreakable
bond, the glue that holds all love together,

And I the King of hearts,
a prisoner in my house of cards