The red apple
reflects perfect
imperfect randomness
of this
wild world
that whirls
in my malleable mind.

False fabric skin
folds in
concealing
empty pockets
that we pretend
are not there.

While
two fish swim
diving in
and out of
our fishbowl
forehead
as Pisces
abstractions
such a strange
water sign reaction.

Till, dark waters
rise
from behind
my already
cloudy eyes
and drowning mind.

This is lazy writing,
soft lightning
inspiration recovered
from other
poems
and translated into
the language I use
to handle my
mad hatter nature.