Poem: Product of Xanax

Into dreams I wander. Floating over cool, cascading waterfalls of thought, I disappear into the mist. Water breathes its fresh scent on my cheeks, and I step down onto moss covered memories. Wading ever so carefully into the peaceful pool, I watch already been lived movies on eyelid screens. Shooting stars are swallowed by moon light and a symphony of crickets plays a soothing lullaby. Whirlpools spin flower petals into a fresh-scented kaleidoscope of color, a time warp pulling me to enter its realm. Fingertips gently touch the beckoning wonder, causing new shapes to form. I gaze back into the falls, staring deep into the place that I've been, but the hypnotic rose, scented cyclone draws me back. Deeper and deeper I wade, until I am submerged in the magic and mystery this place has to offer me. And only then am I free to be one with the fantasy, one with the reality, one with the thing I call my life.