There is no consoling silence
wherein I might find solace
only the raucous cacophony
of these rebel rousers’ unrest.

While I seek inward to a center,
pine for nurturing rest,
to feel sleep’s soft tendrils
descend over me
to caress,
to calm
and soothe my weariness.

Though not apprised of turning inward
nor of silence, nor natural rest
solace by them is sought
through chemical malfeasance.
Enticing a brain to an altered perception
a state of numbness,
their predilection
a false solace it is at best.

I too am desirous of,
addicted one could say,
to altered states of perception
though attained in a natural way
That inward peace and calm
reflection on life and breath

an altered state of mental quietude,
not the numbness at the behest
of some external influence
of the chemicals they ingest.

We all are seeking something
addicts we might say,
trying to find something
beyond the normality
of each mundane day.