Neon butterflies and Gingerbread Windows

Outlined world, the colour bleeding out,

a leg on my arm, many heads on their limbs.

As smooth hair tickles my bald lips,

my cheeks betray their infidelity.

As long and coarse, as grainy and salted,

engraved lines are drawn to deceive.




A whistle announces time; a silence follows the stampede.

It comes to crash, and then to whirl,

shiny polka dots on the ripped expanse.

The draped and dressed window, my horizon,

it outlines my existence, my world in multitudes of two.

It’s symmetry sacrosanct, so sustained.



The reality of the salty flesh dawns,

as gray light chips into my reason,

as the great mist surrounds, I fear to reach out, I close my eyes.

The gray disappears, the black comfort returns,

it flickers till I am strong again.

The stereo eye singing softly, my pupils dilate the limbs around me.



Digging up sand, burying my feet,

Inhaling divinity, residual yet potent,

my eyes burn and lips cry, I reach out for the smoke.

It engulfs me, I swirl I spin, I never breathe.

A big shiny coin, almost transparent,

conically extrapolates reality.

I touch its glass, it holds to linger,

It’s wetness invites my parched insides.


Rolling in a pool of transparent blood,

it smells potent and burns my throat,

My eyes cry, the cry of fire,

My body grieves my losing life.








I look up to a long palm, reaching out to the sky,

white stubby fingers, no opposable thumbs.

It hits a surface as I stand and stumble,

on that palm reality now defines.

I crawl to gravity, on smooth cold ripples,

gray and hard, they never end.

I think of steel and then of the night,

Of yellow yolk covered in gray.





I see limbs; they now have heads,

their shadows obstruct the bleeding lights.

My body grunts as I drag against the wind,

stillness awaits, I no longer breathe divine.






He stands insidious, in an insipid life,

bled out colours, drained unfilled.

Dying embers carpet his authority,

slow and menacing, he commands the night.

I now see his putrid life, his ugly sinister fiery eyes,

I am betrayed, I am defied.

I see him and I am steered in high tide,

tears flood me as I sink.

Thrown by physical manifestations of grief,

my dying life, I no longer search.






As reality unveils, I crawl feebly on embers,

Capturing, that last whiff of psychedelic dream.

Neon butterflies and gingerbread windows,

Outlined and bleeding, I dream my episodic life.

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/*Brief Expl:
(1 : I wake up with people around me...sloshed n asleep...over each other...Someone’s sandy hair is on my face, it has left a mark on my cheeks.

2 : I hear the guard whistle...the sound changes to waves crashing..I don know where I am...I look up n see stars through my eyes..I admire the symmetry of my window, my window is my set of decorated eyes.

3 : I taste my salty lips and try and open my eyes, it seems as though some 1 is chipping their way in..Its not bright...there is grey light around..but its smoky so i close my eyes again and attempt to open them again n again till I finally do...I can hear music and see hands and feet all over...

4 : The room is filled with residual smoke...it is potent enough..I try not to inhale any more

5 : I see the coin shaped base of a shot glass...it takes me some time to figure out the cone shaped glass surrounded by alcohol which burns my throat..i then describe my feet as i stand on them

6 : I crawl down stairs, people brush past me...

7 : 'he' refers to the last 'joint')
*\