Found this, written towards the end of my (pretty hardcore if i say so myself) drug-taking escapades about 13 months ago, simply called "wtf"

Excitable entrapment, the vague reanactment of feelings you once had; the closure that made you glad.
Elementally enforced, the love that you sourced - from thoughts that never grew, and its too late to start anew.
A cage of dynamite, exploding magnesium bright from misdemeanour reason that traps the pair of us in treason;
The Deviant detachment, the disasterous distraction, from the darkening clouds, that gather round like shrowds,

Of mercurial inspiration, the endless alienation - of ideas, the fears that govern your escape,
From anarchaic control, the syndrome of the soul,- the strife : your life is yours to shape.

Of, From,

FOR nothing more than a personal prison?

and got stoned last night as a rarity, and conjured these x-factor-inspired-come-dangerously-'mein kampf'-alluding poemettes

any questions?

"can you feel it?"
asked chance
and as the growing thousands,
who dared to say no
kept saying it
and stared instead at the
stars of rainbow,
against the purest black
and then the sweetest music
makes the noises stop

**** the politics,
**** riddles,
**** the game,
**** chess,

just let me be me
and free me from this stress
but i digress
its my fault i guess
with all that swag
about my chest
bearing the burden of faux pas
about my burning breast
im lost to wondering
am i
or blessed

the way i just manifest is the magic of forms,
biding by the nuances of socially approved norms,
and in context, it's fine, the atmosphere is warm,
but wine and cheese and tea and biscuits,
wont bring about sociopolitical reform,
to rush the houses of parliament like a countrywide swarm!
when theres thunder and lightning its an actual ****ing storm!

any feedbacks?
worth adding to a collection of soberly written poetry im currently working on, t put forward for a uni application portfolio?
Once We Were Anarchists