The Capsule of Validity

She trickles and puddles in pools of warped fabrications, With insipid and sheepish defenses, She clouds my concentration of clarity and washes away the pitiful pigment— Swallow. Swallow the mystic pain of proper awareness, And as the tremor of repulsive reality flumes over me, Every sense is sharp, cruel, and plastered on the wall of grief, I am catatonic. Pop one, two, three down the rabbit hole of ignorant bliss, And become conscious. Conscious of my role in the game of deception, And of my inept, used, and trampled body. The exasperated shades deluge my blind feeble eyes, Yet still I yearn for the pill of knowledge.