burning
oh sweet flame you consume me
flashing your brilliance into the vortex of my soul
this dreamer has color that explodes
somewhere
in there
hides
the
warm embrace of an old familiar disguise
burning
oh sweet flame you consume me
the decadence of my soul ignites the flash
this explosion is the dream
i could feel you reverberating my tremolo
almost univibe inside you
but that in phase would be overdriven and flanged
swallowed by your chorus
my distortion now compressed by your slapback
this outcome unacceptable
no reparation can atone
blood must flow
the evil of a man will cause the devil to weep
sorrow must be let go
dreaming hero
wakes to be forgotten martyr
lay the hand of vengeance
the evil of man will cause the devil to weep
payment required in pound and pence
these broken boxes of dreams scattered about the lime green waters sleeping in icy caverns beneath the surface of moons i long ago forgot to colonize in my rush to become the expanded mind come back to me now in a fragmented paisley kaleidoscope of memories i cannot explain
and this notion of anna driving the big van to meet me falls into a vision i once lost long ago
in freefall i laugh with no sound save the color of a new stress calling me into realms of a lithograph of different languages i do not understand that scream to me with a meaning i should have known
and this invention of anna driving the big van to greet me falls into a fever i once knew long ago
perhaps a migraine of the soul is the diagnosis for this malaise that has bound me and surrounded me in some desperate freak show for self imprisoned fools who carry crosses long after the debt has been paid has hidden the real me all these years
and this elevation of anna driving the big van to welcome me falls into an ocean i needed to swim long ago
in this randomness it would not be out of the ordinary to increase darkness by one and create the unwise but i have entered a dimension unforeseen where my thoughts are but peanuts in a field of gingerbread men smiling at scarecrows who know no greater sadness than living alone
and this inspiration of anna driving the big van to entice me falls into an orchestra of sounds i wish could conduct
and this verse is the nap - where i break the fourth wall of the readers reality - where i step away from the mountain of words i've used to strangle your mind - end of the nap
do you miss me when i'm gone? would you miss me when this is done?
as the bus stops at the station at the end of the rainbow feelings are tossing butterflies into wormholes of anticipation while my hair stands on end thinking about timelessness and the ever closing footsteps of my own madness painting desires in neon colors that warp my best intentions into a discombobulated mess of words that seem to never end
and this elation of anna driving the big van to offer me honey falls into a field of wildflowers that i buzz about for hours
(are you ready to begin?)
i never knew the last moment ended
how could another be starting?
(don't be so childish, get on with it)
childish
child-like
children
child
what was it brian (or wadsworth) said?
child is the father of the man
(well then, old man..grandfather, take us back
again)
are you sure? there be monsters down that path
monsters down that path...monsters...
feeling differently in the setting sun of this
time around the wheel
so much to do
so much done wrong
so much to be undone before the last twinkling
star of the last night to try fades into the obscurity of another trip around
the wheel and i'm still seven steps from the top of mount i don't give a damn
happenstance is just the floundering of
imagination crossing the river of dreams and you won't know the question until you step inside
the catacombs of your past and see the answers you scribbled on the walls in
various attempts to find your way back out
now you step with caution feeling about the cool,
cool walls of doubt and regret searching for reflection or redemption or maybe
simply validation of your time in this pitre dish of ideas and emotion knowing
all the while that these things can only come from within your own heart
your heart
your heart
in the center of it all your heart
how do i gain entrance to the fort that guards
your heart if i can't find the way out of mine?
yes, there do be monsters here
of my own making
the soft blue of midnight trips into the vast
unknown of youth disloved into the overwhelming gray of adulthood and we were
all bound to rules that we never knew or understood as the time we thought was
on our side slid further into obscurity that echoed in the canyons of the
isolation we created to hide from our true selves
our true self
our true self under skies of color and
imagination
we only have one chance to ride this magic
we only have one chance to witness the sideshow
witness the sideshow in this land of words and
phrases
yes, there be monsters here
and there are wondrous creatures of love and
beauty
it wouldn't be a sideshow without both
the ticket office is words away from where you
are today or yesterday or tomorrow simply speak and the ride will begin
(is this where it begins or ends?)
isn't that for you to decide....
the tragedy of these emotions swallow you in thunderstorms of doubt and lost memories
is this the spectrum of madness calling you away?
falling
falling
into a ratio of time we only know in the darkness of our dreams
are you falling in love yet?
are you falling into the sea?
falling
falling
tears fall into pools of color only you can imagine
imagine
me
swimming with you
imagine
swimming
alone
imagine swimming
with another chance at being an aspiration
instead of the realization
of who you are
