psilocybin micro doses

what am I composed of? i am decomposing, slowly. won't cling to composure while the trouble with my posture has a hunch that prose will help me soldier on; softly. i won't pose, will not sew myself to posters. i am on the shore as much as i am slipping under; into the damp, the deep, and as sleep I hear the breaking twigs beneath me, as I shoulder the pain the spores are spreading. and as I prod, i feel protrusions, extensions of what has been reused; probable, possible, philial, free.