From The Lab

slow burn

Blows to the head that fog the eyes,
Lost, long gazes through the atmosphere,
Ticket for a trip through consciousness,
Annual vacation taken all damn year,
Rubber worn thin, challenging to steer,
Blown tires, fused, no brakes in Taylor Classics,
Lungs aflame, brain now in tune, nothing less than something drastic.

Seeking shamanistic cures,
Herbs and spices, blended rums,
Experimenting with the temple,
The earth may worship when I'm done,
Another rising phoenix disappearing in the sun;
Back to the clouds to taste the wind and elevate the mind,
Journeys for the holy grail, that first love left to find.