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?
I just stepped on a green pigeon.
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.