Psychedelic Maelstrom

Time and distance have lost their meaning

I find myself wildly careening

Through planes with no substance, with no form

Reality's edges dull and worn

Spiralling further out of control

Losing grip on my immortal soul

With no sense of orientation

Dazed and lost from self-flagellation

So out of touch with reality

I cannot hear, and I cannot see

And what I feel is warped out of shape

I don't know if I'll ever escape

Lost in this psychedelic maelstrom

I can't begin to guess the outcome

Hopefully someone will soon ground me

Give me direction, shake me soundly

For without outside intervention

I may stay lost in this dementia

Terri Lyn Stanfield

3/18/2002