lately i have been
too absorbent of the universe's
there's but one cure for such a sickness and that's--
well perhaps there are two,
and those are:
pot of course, its sympathetic, numbing fog,
syd barrett secondly,
a kindred spirit for the most self-hating,
those confounded by life,
casualties of the swift hand of reality,
it's knock-down force--
and the cruel pain of love,
a knock-down lonely purgatory in which i rest
well, toss and turn
a sort of vacuum that beats, a prolific pain
it keeps mothering itself anew
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