The Dirge of Drugged Flight

I cannot explain to you how it feels,
to surf the extraterrestrial terrain of mental fabric
sewn with light and sweet hallucinogenic nectar,
to sever oneself from the plane of earthly existence.
Elevate me, cast me to sea, and oh,
I will float atop the salty water,
the master swimmer, an unabashed partaker of drugged flight.
My lips seek to kiss innards, for within
beauty is irrelevant and can only be assumed.
But then I think, and my mind has learned that thinking is bad,
for drugged flight can only last so long.
I walk along the muddy riverbank,
collecting stones, pocketing stones, immersing stones,
birds chirping the dirge of drugged flight.

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