.
Tapioca sky,
feel the knife curve
like a Moon-hook,
wrenching a tourmaline ****
into hallucinating gums,
ritualised in immortal agony.
Lemon clouds,
see the portrait smile
like a nightmare,
feasting on famine entrails,
of sacrificed words,
scything off the tongue.
© Pagan Paul (2017)
.
Old psychedelic poem.
.