In Dreams Awake

And no perchance:

this is the lure,

whether pipe or needle

or silver foil:

mescaline in the desert,

ketamine in the hall.

Reduce the world

to the sweet oblivious,

the loss of self

in nothingness.

By some mischance

there is no more,

neither bliss nor nadir

nor nodding sleep:

a stabbing in the alley

a murder in the street.

Reduce the world

to the one necessity

the loss of self

to addiction.

But some will dance,

this is the lore,

neither lost nor losing

nor living death:

heroin at the weekend

heroine on the job.

Reduce the world

and you are victorious,

the loss of self

is impossible.