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Sep 2012
A circle spinning;
Forever round.
Down a hole-
to underground.

Spinning faster-
blurring faces.
till they're all twisted--
twisted up backwards.

Facing downwards--
through the roof,
that is underground.

Up is down,
and down is up.
loosing grip,
on plastic society.

Acid burning,
till it tickles.
a rotting apple--
tasted sweet.

but wait,
where am I going again?

Oh yes,
Spinning circles,
there below.
through the roof,
hidden underground.
Someone, I think *she* lost *her* mind.

© Victoria
Nickols
Written by
Nickols
  3.6k
     Nickols, alan, ---, Keloquial, --- and 1 other
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