I took the pill.
And all that happened,
happened.
The gods awoke.
The nerve impulses
depolarized.
The road ahead took me
all the way back home.
I took the pill.
Or did that pill take me?
Orange embers began
building bright cities in my mind.
Hedonistic dreaming
brought tears to my artless
eyes.
Hangovers hung over me
like the beautiful brutalist
buildings of Schöneberg,
whilst the cigarette smoke
did enough to keep the beautiful
people from coming near.
And before long, I remembered
everything.
I was everyone I'd ever been,
and I was everywhere at once.
Were we truly in love, that night
upon the cobbles, when you
wished to give me head in the
churchyard behind the church?
Did I ever think I could
be more than that
terrified little boy?
And it's true what you said,
my heart was meant for
a fiercer mind.
I am not worthy,
my love.
I never was.
But I took the pill,
and the pill took me.
To those Scottish coastal plains,
where a man I once loved,
filled with water whilst trying to
swim to Faroe.
To the darkest parts of
the piano's innards, past the
strings and the hammers,
where the best songs
dwell, and where it stinks
of the '70s.
To the battle of the bulge,
long before the battle of the
bulge, in search of
paper, and the words
to write it down.
It, being that lucid,
transcendental idea
that always eludes
my desperate,
despairing grasps.
I took the pill.
And all the time that
makes up a life,
all that time
did pass,
did pass,
did pass.