abstract:"are these not reveries?"

I do
Prescendone
The blue pill with the orange strip
I can see the mottled skin when I hold it to the florescent light
It tastes like nothing
I settle it in the saliva on the side of mouth and allow the jacket to melt away and the white powder to settle across the gulley of my gum
It does its trick
And I float upwards

I dream in these reveries
Because the doctor's lead me here
Dr. Fansem, Nurse Siffa, Therapist 1, Investigator Unknown
And I believe in them, why shouldn't I
"Dream.  It's healthy."
Then, "Take the pills.  Don't forget."
And I don't.  I am a good boy.
I take them and they are most important to me and my mental state and general health and for the good of the therapy.

There is a tree outstretching his branches under the warm sun of the spring
And light breezes on long grass
And I am not really there but floating through it
Where am I I should ask I don't
Never
It's enough to feel the sun and the breeze and there is nothing ill, nothing dark

And I wake and I don't care, because sleep will come again
Soon enough

I have enough pills
And time
And the sun is always there to greet me
In time

Where do they make them
In happy factories?
Glory be I say to myself and no one else
Because it's my little corner
Of this side of the world.