The Comedown

Staring at his dirty laundry pile
How does this weary traveler reconcile?
Where he just was, with being now home
Exploring, making friends, just free to roam
Living Pura Vida, living care free
Acting with unbridled spontaneity
Filled with ocean waves and open eyes
Sunshine days and bright Pacific blue skies

But here, this house is windows and walls
Doors lead to the cold, and dark empty halls
Here rigid structure defines everyone’s life
It’s like cutting peppers with a dull knife
I felt it, right when I was waking
Strangled. Suffocated. My heart breaking
It was a panic of grief and loss
I was a forest floor covered in moss
Did I awaken from a fairy tale dream
Is everything exactly how it seems

I know what this is: self diagnosed
A confrontation with the Good-Times Ghost
The comedown: after the high is through
Smooth as clockwork, precise, right on cue
There’s happiness, but it’s mixed with sad
Lamenting the end of the good times had
Back to reality… ‘as it were‘
There is no high that can last forever

Eh, I’ll be alright. …..yep—I’ll be fine
For that sweet high, I’ll continue to pine
Now I’ve but one wish, to hug and hold
The people who turned my trip into gold