Through swirling smoke
Hear mystic drum
From peace pipe toke
And music strum
Greenish sin
Or shredded swag
I reach within
My medicine bag
Powdered cure
Venom of snake
Stomped or pure
The chance I take
Though bitter sweet
I choke and gag
Seek self-deceit
My medicine bag
The shaman speaks
And lifts his hands
The dreamer walks
Through scorching sands
Staff or crutch
Joyous and sad
I can escape
My medicine bag
Addiction like soured love is hard to escape. It beckons, restless, compulsion to a weary soul. Escape requires removal and, too easily revisited is this mistress. Destructive satisfaction, wanton desires. Again and again returning till one day it is enough and the lesson is learned. When the price is paid, hopefully emerges a freed slave.
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