I banged my head onto the wall until it got splattered to a thousand pieces of colourful mosaic;
******* all the gloom, wet and sticky, on which they lay and grew prosaic.

Somethings like flowers, like coloured rain drops fell on my hands;
Through which they easily pervaded.

Flowing up, through the vessels, to the brain;
Overflowing and leaking from the wrinkles and filling up the skull,through the ears out they drain.                        

Creating infinite abstract blooms, which try escaping;
Out, again into the gloom, of the head that is dehiscing.

Those invisible blossoms spread across the room like mildew;
Soon creating a world of their own, ugly and new.