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