The Comedown

I look up to the sky,

I look down to the cotton ground. 

Surface beneath feels like this feeling —

high like a bird or high like a psychonaut? 

What does it matter,

so long I keep flying. 

Even if I fall, 

I know I'd land on the mist. 

It's gonna last this time;

It's not like the other times —

I lie myself.

Elated to see it unfold; 

the adventure. 

The effect seems to wash off, 

slowly, but I'm still floating. 

Until there was nothing below me. 

Then the high washes off, 

and lows don't feel like home. 

The void opens wide.

Days of walking on air are over. 

It didn't last long;

it never does. 

The sky was never mine. 

The mask is dissolving. 

Hypersensitive, overstimulated.

Each glance at mirror,

a trigger pulled. 

There's a world inside of me —

hope and joy,

hopelessness and sorrow. 

Made up of heaven and hell,

both inside me. 

Can you ever be whole

when you want something that can never be enough?

You will never be whole

if you search for pieces anywhere else. 

And the highs call again. 

Completing the full circle.