“Try it, it can help,” she said,
as I nearly wept; as I
felt my mind slipping, again.
I couldn’t decide, but I took the stash;
small yellow pills with purported magic inside.

Valium Valhalla soothes my tensions,
releases my rejections, smoothes
self-proscribed head trips, reality trips,
and trips to the dark side of the moon.

Valium Valhalla flies within,
where dreams sink into bubble gum puddles,
sticky and sweet; round, though,
like a pink yellow sun, a ray of sun,
a ray of ego, a tomb of hope,
where today’s self-thought heroes go
to die and fledge their silly words.

Valium Valhalla, home of cowards,
and poets.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 1/18/05