Roots that bind my feet, Fire that licks my skin

There is an intruder in my mind;
her skin is so soft
as she tells me that its not enough.
Another monster set loose upon the world,
though this one is mine.
Every move I make is followed
by inevitable doubt and
always always always
questioning.

Dissatisfaction like DMT
lifting us out of the atmospheric ego
into clouds that sink low behind the horizon.
Steeping my water into mud,
such bitter tea
that drinks me down.
Hate found its way inside.

When is time going to change?
I'm ready.