Watch Me Grow; Watch Me Go by Eric Sparks

This is just another drug-filled poem from the drug-filled poet
who enjoys sweet, blue dreams and white, powdered donuts.
Lucy in this guy with potent plants; there's drinks that make you sleep
and drinks that make you dance. Most moments we live are subject to chance,
so my belly stays full and I stay lost in a trance. Now most don't understand
the joys of my past, but I just record the facts of a man who must walk the old path.

It breaks my heart that I'm not Jack Kerouac anymore;
I've lost some smiles and some sighs and they've been gone for
a while; so no, I am no longer that starstruck child who would
always venture into the wild. It kills me though; he always had
and will always have some part of my soul; I always know when
it's time to grow, but when you're bored and you're scared, time creeps by slow.

I'm more of a Thompson now and they whisper it's a problem.
Problems stacked on problems; can I have more time to solve them?
Reality is just a process; but with these words, I'm nothing short of Lochness.