SRθ: Grim Inquiries (2023-2024)

Sit.23: The Way It Is

THE FALSE MUSE

Once tried, ground-ward, I did say
"I'd like to feel this fun today"
and ate into a mucky gel
some mushrooms that the forest fell

knowing, course, their full effects
to make all dreams come true
by making figment physical
and turning red to blue

a journey I did take, and when
the wind swept me, I flew
I slayed tall dragons, bedded whores,
and made wife out of you

But then I landed, back again,
into my room so dim,
and thrashed about in frustrate red,
for dreams turned stone and brim

sad, not violent, devastated,
then I tired, as all do,
and slept a weary five an' four,
groggy to the day anew

went searching more, did I, until,
I found the precious shroom,
and once more ate into a muck,
that promise that does loom

But it was not to be, alas,
this cure was not my own
and sick I fell into a shock
that broke me back on home

dire malaised, I cursed the Gods,
what challenge had I failed?
or did I just not recognize
my cure from that which ailed?

"fret not," I heard, from out of none,
"I rest upon your soul"
t'was then I realized that my cure
had joined me in my body whole

Great polyp, top of brain, and thus,
a muse for all it deems,
the brain itself? Perhaps, although
not all is as it seems

arms of light that pass light through
and trickle in their mirth solution
spanning wide the eyes and mind
elixir made to feed delusion

unlike most dreams, this one stayed,
and forced me to remember,
those worlds which I had dreamed about,
where I was no such member

For letting me inside their realm,
at first I thanked the Gods,
where magic flew from fingers flung,
and creatures looked so odd

I started to forget myself,
whene'er it called my name,
and realized it erases me,
to whisk me from my frame

monsters saw me, dead of night,
from trees behind my home,
and in my nightmares, when they caught me,
I felt flesh be teared from bone

Then again I'd be awake,
so scared and none the wiser,
to what had caused these visions bleak,
hallucinations for the miser

I cried out for my innocence,
"Fly back, ye crafty heathen!
I've no more need for cloudy thoughts,
nor elements from season!"

I knocked and rubbed and scratched about,
and drank to kill the demon,
but on my head it rested yet,
and fed me more day's dreamin'.

* * *

I woke up from a sordid nightmare, drenched in sweat. Unlike many previous, and much like all before those, I did not win against the forces of evil. I'd dreamt, to my terror, that The Heathen himself was upon me in the night, fondling between my legs and groping my chest – slobbering on my face with his wretched, putrid beer-breath. Worse yet, I was completely unable to move a single limb in my body, and could only spectate my own violation. I was lucky he'd decided to stop and laugh at me before he took off his pants, at which point I managed to jolt myself awake. And the sleep felt so heavy upon me I thought I might get dragged back in all over again. It was so vivid and real that I had to check the house three times in the dark to make sure he hadn't stopped by. But perhaps, I think, it's time for a confession: a good portion of my tea from the last year had been boiled from the little yellow caps of gnomes. My shroom usage started when my finger was smashed, as a way to cope with the pain. It followed me home with The Artist, who was more than willing to indulge me every so often for the loss of her brother – though not too often, for risk of harming the child. Both of us were looking for ways to break through the walls of death and tragedy which closed in all around us, and the shrooms provided a bright yellow door... with a funny-looking knob to boot.
"There's always good fun in strange knobs," The Knight used to say.
And for a while, there was... but the glimmer was waning, and my hallucinations were becoming hauntings.