when you talk that way

of vision quest
and spirit animal

you lie

that’s not your Shit to talk
stolen shit

that shit Grew in
dirt that grew from
blood that
nourished
wherever you Steal crystals from
and whoever you steal wisdom from

they mostly didn’t speak of it
as living it was plenty
it was side by side dirty and clean
it was a life not an add-on

nowadays they live it hard

you don’t
you lie
I can tell because 

when you talk about it
so bloodlessly
you smell like funeral flowers
on a soft bed
for your weakly lucid dreaming
for an afterlife
to follow a barely lived now-life

how gently you wield
the stolen property
how little the source
resembled what you call it
how little what you have
resembles what was taken

how little it seems
when you use it
when once it was a communion with All
and as such
even the smallest stone of it
held a cosmos