In the middle of my mid-life crisis
Back and forth like a pendulum
Full moon iris'
I can taste a lingering type of sweet
I can smell the lead and
I'm loosened by the shapes like
Notes in a psychedelic symphony
Persian rugs on floors with patterns
That stretch in 3-D
A tiny drop of dew
From my forehead
Hanging like a whisper a
Shiver cold and true
Trickling down my forearm
Shaking sweating wide awake in
Bed
The strangers all left me
Clock chimes at midnight
Tip-toeing to rooms