Reality Absorbed in Reverie
“Just like spinning plates,”
my consciousness spun around my head.
Suddenly my life had a soundtrack
and then detached—
Frazzled hair with a side of insanity.
I was a lunatic.
A lunatic with heavy eyelids and smashed.
Little green bottles climbed on and soaked in.
I peeled the labels, now undetectable
to the creatures that subsist in earthy dirt.
A lunatic for a moment, for a few obscure instances.
The limiting bulk of me asked
for something different than modest heat.
“Please, no electric temperature
emitting from the wall,” it said.
Little bumps of skin grew
caused by scarce woolen things.
My body shivered, and wet its lips.
Had I known, did I know?
My consciousness stumbled
along a slender path:
a crimson brick bridge with no railings,
no one inch margin to prevent the letters of my dream
paper from slipping off the page,
nothing to save me from diminishing
into the black gravitational pull below.
The face of my psyche
sunk to the ground,
my eyelids, like dragging lures.
In slow motion,
with responsive notes loitering around the building
of my body, I crumbled;
mini pieces of me scattered around.
Awake!
Asleep…
In the middle of a white-walled room,
thick red molecules hung in the air.
The room stained me and I was cherry all over;
I could taste the bleeding red orbs of fruit,
those droplets of pungent crimson life,
now in the upturned curves of my mouth.
A window made of crystal
blue, fish-filled, ocean water
painted me indigo. The window
unfastened itself and the yellow light of a close star
coated my face, dried me off. Salt covered
my abstract body, and I could abstractly taste it.
It all felt natural.
The same as real.
Reality
absorbed in reverie.
