Three lay fast asleep
Thirteen levels floating above
The surface where sorrowful screams were
Drowned out by wanton festivity,
Drunken ****** burning wet flames.

Numbered amongst the dormant,
I licked the thick, dark liquorice of night,
Summoning the sweet, milked serenity
That peels the stretched skin of insomnia.
Two fish reminisced of home islands.

Licquorice ice blocks now inked out into the milk glass,
Passage into the lush land
Of the half-dead was now made.
Over the heavenly white nimbus mass
Flew in the Ebony Queen in her floral pinafore.

Slight, steady slips of worn garments
Produced a passport to mocha *******
Perky and round as Brazil nuts,
Prodding and rubbing against banana nether,
A servile *** now grasped by curious hands.

The sting of liquorish now lifted,
I peered under the sheets,
Oblivious and curious as to how the milk
Spilled all over my lap.
What is this strange tingling burn?