Monday, February 7, 2011

Mind Meatloaf

They start off sane enough,
a couple of disfigured pillars,
holding up some distorted walls.

they proceed to get stranger
when colors enter the equation.
Swirling hues of marvelous lace
dancing all around me.
A whole palette full of oranges
slice apart a tree bark wall.
Purple tides of green swells
sink monochromatic submarines.

The landscape takes a nibble out of sanity.
Time must have put in its two-weeks notice,
and fled for good.
Everything is downside-up,
yet the shapes hover fluidly.
Peacocks of concepts are swimming in a disco-ball toilet.
Mirrors start to lie, and lights shine dark.

My waking mind must be fried.
I realize now it's gotta be a dream.
My frail think-unit is now trying to awaken.

Can I control things?
Kind of.
I just stepped on a green pigeon.
It's barking.

I'm starting to lasso things together now.
The Sun has stopped judging me,

Ah, down that hallway,
I see myself.
Ahh, I'm a dapper pig,
with blue and white spectacles
reading a periodical.

I approach myself down the organic hallway.
Sprinting slowly through the black-tin quick sand.

I look up, and fly straight.
My missile body breaks the tree branch of ice.
I ascend like an ounce of bricks,
toward the grimacing swine.

He looks up and roars like a tiger.
The sound waves slap me in the face,
like a bear punching a trout,
in the flowing stream of my mental despair.

At long last I see a cord,
perhaps a life line.

My scaly tentacles grab it,
and yank it with a squish.


Back to my room,
my soft bed.

I sit up, and scratch my gills.
"Time for breakfast",
I snort, wheeze, and whinny
as I fall up the stairs.