Astrophysical Song

Could this mean that I’m not who I’ve come to be?

Could this mean that I’ve overlooked my ghost inside a portal?
Come to me in colors – pastels and bubbles.  I’m imagining my ghost inside a psychedelic tunnel.  Could this mean that I switched it long ago?  This clone, could it be a part of your ego?  Come to me in a photo, black and white and torn.  Come to me with a choir, or however way you transpire, come to me as you would have come all along.  Come to me in an astrophysical song.

Could this mean that I’m not who I’ve come to be?

The Psychedelic ‘Shroom

The vagabond’s in a wooded frame of mind.
In a planted shack designed to flow behind – a psychedelic thought.

Who cares if my poems rhyme or not?  Who cares?

Kneeling down to the monster, in a quiet pathetic way,
blinding psychedelics, and a long light gray… mushroom.

Who cares if I eat this ‘shroom or not?  Who cares?

Thoughts of leaving bring about anxiety… and doom.
Kneeling down to the ‘shroom; its long stalky magic,
excited for the trip outside the shack – a psychedelic racetrack.

All I care about is the talking purple orb inside my backpack.
Who cares about their nasty negative feedback?

Who cares!”