LIPS
YOUR LIPS MOVE BUT I CAN’T HEAR WHAT U SAY
He spoke to me of epiphanies +shamanic parties in the jungle
(a.k.a. findthegodwithintourism) Apparently the use of the
drug distilled from the Ayahuasca plant is the new-ish panacea
for monied desperados A Canadian doctor taking groups into
the jungle ($$$) is lending credibility to what is otherwise known
as a weeklong vomitfest of festering psychic terrors
In ancient traditions this was reserved for Shamans earning their
wounded healer stripes Walking the (vomitous) walk Personally
I am ready to try micro-dosing LSD the latest transformation party
out of California Another: turn on tune in drop out epiphany?
Why not just grab hold of the nearest signpost +save some money
The one pointing toward a repetition compulsion so finessed so well
oiled that you actually believe yourself to be experiencing something
new! (very close to the definition of insanity) Particularly when there
is not a scintilla of hope that this is true i.e.., the quality of bitterness
the antecedents of despair hidden in the many zippers of that shiny new
moto jacket the pallor of Anderson Cooper’s thinning face All brand new
(..wait wasn’t he always so hopelessly white?..)
And do hold onto this signpost as you power up the nth degree of autopilot
The one where: If it walks like you +talks like you +breaks just like a
woman It is you Or a reasonable facsimile No one will notice except
the most recent escapee The one who is so HAPPY (grrrrrrrrrr)
Truthfully you do not need a shamanic joyride in Machu Picchu One person
I know said she felt absolutely no flavour of the sacred there Not for a second
I sat in shocked silence as she had just recently lost her soul to the food at
Balthazar NYC
But the real lesson in the dirt of this nasty diatribe: It is epiphanic in + of itself
that you awaken in the same casing each +every day Eyes open comfortably numb
With or without a hard on seeing an untethered foot at the end of your leg until
you don’t
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songanddancegirl 