Ride

I can’t get off how I’d like to get off

so I’ll have to get off soft

I can’t get loft how I’d like to get loft

so I don’t get loft oft

I want to face this thing that keeps me down

Awash in a reservoir of doubt and fear

I’m drowning, floundering, reaching around me

Problems they hound me

Monsters surround me

But, somehow, strangely, they all seem to be

A reflection, an image a picture of . . .

And I can’t get off how I’d like to get off

so I’ll have to get off soft

And I can’t get loft how I’d like to get loft

so I don’t get loft oft

I want to get high

So high that I fly by arrows, missiles, and projectiles of inadequacy

Shot from a thousand countries,

a thousand guns,

on a thousand ships

all launched by a face that looks like . . .

Mine

I want to blow my head on a mind-bending

Plutonian type experience

Snorkeling to worlds yet unknown all in the space of time

that it takes to really know . . .

Myself

I want to wiggle my toes in the periwinkle seagrass of freedom but

I’m trapped in a psychological prison surrounded by windows and doors

There are too many means of ingress and egress,

there’s even a trap door constructed by . . .

So, after signing a waiver

I’ll step through the door to the boardwalk of my soul

and ride

ride the roller coaster to eternal happiness or damnation

ride until the wheels fall off

but . . .

If I can’t get off how I’d like to get off

I’ll have to get off soft