I Walk

Where my feet wander
I feel compelled to follow.
Like the subconscious ramblings of my inner mind
Are a road that leads from roughed trail to clouded sky.

So my unconscious and conscious become one,
As my eyes follow
The delicate leopard-skin of shadow and light
Splayed across the grass
Like a giant throw-rug
With all the comforts and atrocities that are attributed
Both thereof, and
To one less majestic.

Fear was farther than I wanted to travel,
So I stayed home and watched television.

A hovel is still home,
And is safe.

The mind is psychotic enough,
To slake the need for psychadelia.