Paint me many colours
Of the black-light spectrum
Where the world floats on cyan oils of deception.
Where gossamer awareness
Is a breath in confusion
Sucked in by the depth of this senseless illusion.
A delicate surface of seeming perfumed
believing
Nothing is now,
and now
Revealing
the yellow shadows of being
Down in the vermillion core
Where sensation explodes
Like a bullet through thought
In the glass melon’s heart,
magenta of my mirror-mind
drowns in the stream
The key dreams of the world
And shatters in crimson shine
The carnage of time
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