Along the soft lines innocence
Made gentle clouds whisper lightning
Sparked instead of madmen rotting
Milk from ether dipped in metaphoric honey
Circular resonance drumming up a dusty gall
Answering moist noises in petroleum ounces
Blotting papers burned in psychiatric haze
Electric guitar shouts a storms last
Hard blind travel instance
Minor keys flooding cows ears
Wasps hatching, spinning, eating
Heat warming but it’s just a newsman on acid, don’t you know
Like a jigsaw puzzle made of vice
Anger fills me open and dread
Pins chocking a needles head
Grinding axes thrusting in the mist
Thermomix my sanguine heart
Wait. Its circles and pears. Little brown wriggly hairs. Sitting feeling this steaming air, thin, gentle presses of them.
Centre to the Isle of might. Try, try as I fight.
Then escape from it all, to a place of light.
The kaleidoscope of the sky befalls and spoils our eyes, it is only those who choose to look who see it.