I
Lemon dew falling from the swollen trees; slip n slide dripping onto my molten- lit hair.
This place is encrusted with the hideous odor of midnight. Midnight blue.
Walking in the dirt after showering toxic waste engulfs me again.
I feel like rubbery trash; polished dirt on an auspicious marble floor.
I stare at chandeliers of cut up light
drawn out of the moon as stars penetrate me.

II (Waking)

The streets on either side of me are stripped of their bearings. The world is empty as I stand in the shadow of the moon. I am at a crossroads. Shrieks surf the wind, bluster of banishing the good. Streets flicker in polka dot flashes filling with soulless creatures once slumbering. The dawn again arises with a jaw cut open.

The horizon is full with shady towering spectacles that jut forward with cheetah speed.

III (The return, back from real life)

Homeless and wretched yet still I glisten in this checkerboard darkness. And from my lips slip lustrous phrases packeted neatly.
Lemon dew from swollen trees penetrate and moisturize. From the suffocating bits of silence this forest has become alive.