FROM, ELIAS

forest-hugged beach weeps
                                   like an ari aster,
cultish magic inscribed in hexagonal
caves -

hopped up on weed, mucinex,
mold spores & cigarettes,    itching
                        for one blue mushroom
to push me over the edge & see
spirals in film stills, seashells,   
                                                     sinking
bare feet into that almost-quicksand.

days like this make me wish
for a higher fever.    
                                a reason
to get a degree & play pharmacist
                            forever high druidess
        crushing cough pills to feel
spells birthed from sluggishness,
sweat,     hot sticky not quite psilocybin:
a new sickness -
                               derived from the cure.