Foolish minds
You’ve assumed I’m in love
I fiddle around perhaps
As I do with many,
Testing my heart and my horizons.
The clear liquid to warm me up,
For I am afraid of a golden heart turning cold and rusting in a wicked world.
Other days the chemicals remind my brain to snap out of its knot.
Or when I am behaved,
And the validation on the university transcript tell me I have succeeded
I indulge in the treats the soil offers me,
Fresh snow and white powder.
But darling you’ve misread the meaning between the lines
I am not in love with the substance,
Only my stripped nature
Where I tread lighter than my goal weight
And I dance wild and free
For the lack of rhythm doesn’t prevent me
From stumbling over my heels in laughs
Or kissing you because I please to
I act on my desires and I fulfill my fantasies.
But the material in between who I am and who I wish to always be is an illusion.
I am not infatuated with the inanimate, only the breathing flesh
When I am alive, and no longer living
My own possibilities and capabilities are crystal,
Demanding of an audience for witness
For when my heart skips its beats
And my jaw clenches
And I see the earth with a wider lens
More vivid, brighter and through a kaleidoscope perspective  
I am not in love with the pill
Or the substance
Only myself,
Always myself.
So you are party correct,
But deeply misunderstood.
As am I.