The Crystal Barrel
But for biological matter:
Flesh, in all its states of decay.
This barrel of dimethyltryptamine and steel,
Corroded into rainbows amongst the rust,
Flowers of mysterious crystals spring from the holes,
Some, like desert roses – determined,
To be something,
Others, breaking like dead lillies,
Desperate to become nothing.
Your privilege brought you inertia,
And you clung to it with pale hands.
Now, while you scrape with them,
Your hands become full of blood again.
The steel gives up its colours,
Like a relief map of the mountain,
But will never see.
Until we forget,
As lovers forget the sincerest of promises.
Or leave it on the mountain?
It is covered in jewels of our substance,
And still yielding beneath the rust,
Some secrets that might just change everything.
I pursue the only course of action there is:
To climb back inside the barrel,