Psychoactive (sonnet)

By Luke Labern

The melding of man and psychoactive:
Pleasure. Sin. Bane. Hell. Ecstay. Heaven.
The mind is art and our judgement's sieve;
Aesthetic choice, these days of ours seven.
Muse to artist, temporary release
From humdrum alienated minutes.
The canvas of life siezed by a quick crease.
Possession is the vice -- when you're its.
Through smokey mask shines altered chemicals
Illuminating the choices of man
Where evolution's worth less than the malls.
No wonder I do it when I can.
Thousands of crystals have I stole for me:
All ingested for temporary glee.