Sorrow for the ignorant

Again, up and flowing, the caffeine that courses these pipes of veins,
My crimson veino, flowing forth through my veins and coronaries, to get hype and open that long sought after flow of creativity that works the pen out, fat and lazy from a long slumber;
Excited to make dark, that which was once blank, the paper soon read and criticized, the poetry soon appears.
The ink's glimmer, fresh in written form puts forth the ramblings spewed from my busy mind for other's entertainment; 
The words loved by the few who understand my thoughts, make that impact.
The impression placed upon one's mind by my written thoughts are deep.
Cut deep.
I put to words what others can't, so is it open?
My mind?
Blasted wide the fuck open by the mass use of psychedelics, the doors of perception open the doors once closed by the ignoreance of others.
I saw the light through the cracks under the door, and wanted to sun bathe in the sun on the other side.Now, with the dark sun tan of the mind, I am thankful.
And, at the same time sorrowful, for those poor prisoners,Locked up with bars of ignorance, behind the tightly locked doors,Of lack of perception.
I pity the foolish souls, lost inside their own world.
Inside the box.