Saturday, March 8, 2014

Counting Sheep

Close your eyes see the flecks of gold 

flashing like fire on the peripherals...

rivers of neon colors swirl into a thousand spirals,

resting translucent, torn to pieces,

a mind swaying ever so slowly in the dark

familiar faces paint my perceptions,

as my head on the pillow just melts away,

down, down, down,

soon breath becomes stolid, and

scenes of splintered mirrors on the roadway

don't seem out of place,

I got lost, just counting sheep...

at last.


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