A TRIP TO NOWHERE

My spirit fails 
Fear prevails 
In dust I make my bed

My mind is a sone
I'm all alone
Empty are the thoughts 
In my head 

My tongue cleaves
To the roof of my mouth 
I sought for words 
But they were not 

I am on a cloud 
Made of sand
Sailing to my life's end
And hallucination is my friend 

When you called my name 
I should of turned a deaf ear 
But you lured me 
With the chance of forgetting my past 

I inhaled you.. I smoked you
You took me on a trip
But the journey was too short 
And the high did not last.

Wilford Barker.