3 fingers, 3 chords

you are such a vast element,

look at you,

how can I ever know you?

I pound on your gates,

I call out to you in the black night,

I try to fight against your winds,

but I become weary in your sun,

and tremble in your cold, 

all the endless talk,

this examining,

this organizing,

this classifying,

this deducing,

but never knowing,

all this endless talk,

separating one from the other,

my fear strikes like lighting,

my nausea festers like boiling acid,

my despair crashes like waves,

I'm a slave to the grind,
before I begin, I'm behind,

all I need is 3 fingers of whiskey,
to loosen the Western-logico-linguistic bind,

all I crave is 3 chords of Blues,
to loosen your hand from mine.

no hiding

there's no hiding,
from this drain,
from this receptacle,
all things wind and spiral down towards it,
like a vortex,
pulling deeper,
past the soil and clay turning to rock,
rock to sediment, 
sediment to water,
deeper than the depths of ocean,
deeper than the longest night,
deeper than the hardest ache,
deeper than what might have been,
deeper than the hurt and the loss,
I don't fight it,
I let it pull me down,
as far as it will go,
past all touch and taste,
past all colour and sound,
beyond matter and anti-matter,
and in a moment I seem to explode,
into nowhere,
and everywhere,
beyond thought,
beyond time,
eternally now,
and I am fully present again,
like one captured,
by the face of an old friend,
by music,
or even just birds in the sky.