Walking endlessly through the world
In an apparent dream of distorted drawings
Where the unknown knocks once again  
Tangled thickets blind the path of observation  
Like the tremendous trickle of a near by creek
Distorted reflections of ones self become clear
A single thought of reality returns to me
Laying under our magnificent oak tree
There is you and me

Effortless between 6 and 7--
lavender and magenta,
moves a bit like grass
sounds like orange juice
in the morning, the sun
says a lot of things about

you

famished lychee
bent on treason

almost unknowingly furious/
dragging feet
all the way

to gather the fairest feathers,
now lumped under dreary
epitaphs.

My mind is dying, an ember whose flames have long since left, My head is spinning like a boat thats gone adrift, Round and round she spins so high, never touching the ground, I'm afraid she'll die. If only sleep came more often, a haven from this storm. If only I could spend a night sleeping nice and soft and warm.