THE MYSTIC

Troubled sorrow, once borrowed, can be cured from a mystic street side stand.
He said be careful, use it tomorrow, but you have it in your hand.
You look at it with special anticipation, wanting to make this glorious relation,
and your patience begins to fall like sand.
Anticipation kills the homosapiens, as your wanting with desire.
There is no use to keeping in, your curiosity set on fire.
Like a magnet, you can’t resist, it’s time to make your mind enlist,
and hope the mystic is a liar.
You throw his caution to the wind, and use with anxious thought.
Your mind begins it’s altering bend, to this journey you have sought.
The head begins to tingle, when the juices start to mingle,
then your body turns from cold to hot.
Visions of grotesquely figured beings, start to fill your head.
Your arms become the gold, your eyes see ten fold,
while your legs feel the weight of lead.
Your fingers feel the nothing, your mind is filled with stuffing,
from the special juices to which you fed.
You feel yourself on a falling course, headed towards the pavement.
Your mind is filled with heavy remorse, from the mystic’s mighty force,
while your body becomes lament.
You struggle to keep reality a portion of your mind.
Finding sight is more difficult to find,
accepting more wrong than there can be right,
that puts you in a bitter bind.
Your body starts to quiver, and force out the inner works.
You feel your bowels relocate, and the mind begins to jerk.
With swelling around your temples, and blood from the nose.
Your thoughts turn to simple, and your life comes to close.
Your last sights from this world you once traveled,
is the mystic with the medicine that made your mind unravel.
"You not listen to power, medicine become the sour,
and now the results will use it’s gavel".