.

Poetry is my insanity,
sparks collected in closed eyes,
frantic phrases falling
in a spectrum’s pulsating palette,
picturing icicle webs
and chromatic landscapes
blurring in the distance

Dancing to the sounds
of brain cells singing
rhythmic compositions,
ringing constantly
in between hours of
counted pendulum swings
on fingers and toes

Pulling on my heart,
squeezing every last thought
oozing in blacklight ink
and day-glo sunrises
of fruit cup offerings
and psychedelic posters,
depicting moons
fluttering in crayon heavens
driving me crazy
in the best possible way