I Want to Escape From Reality At Times

Sometimes, I can no longer decipher which is which.
When fantasy entangles with reality,
like sheets unkempt,
writhing together, inescapable.
Yes, the thrill of it all overwhelms me.

The trees have never looked so pristine.
I'm on the ganja of life, the breath of presence.
Existence dawns upon me in revelatory splendor.
I am free. I am dancing carelessly,
until reality rushes me into a cyclone of guilt and judgment.

How will this war end? How do I tame reality,
cultivating and pruning the shrubs of order?
How do I tame fantasy,
catching dreams in little jars to stack neatly on my bookshelf,
a relic of chaos?