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The mushroom poem


A kaleidoscope of emeralds refract the javelins of light that invade my mind,
That pierce blisters of long forgotten loss, anger, fear and resentment,
Their sticky, alluring wisps of smoke, which escape from these bunkers, dance like maddening clowns,
Dancing fervioushly, side-stepping and darting, motioning like an escaped lunatic,
They gain strength the further they enter the brain, borrowing and excavating for the most tender parts,
A myriad of different emotions engulf me, interchanging intermittently, beckoning me to an inward journey.

Floors like elastic; a footstep as loud as a thunderclap and a tram sounds like a mouse’s squeal,
I speak but you can’t hear what I’m saying, lips flapping despairingly,
A mental perspex barrier envelops my mind, creating a fear of loneliness and detachment,
Allured to go deeper, deeper into me,
Walking on a precarious rocky path one minute, and then euphorically elevated to the clouds the next,
My routes being sporadic dreams dictated by an impatient egg timer,
Jittery legs summon me to walk to the window; a whole world seems to invite me,
My cocktail of emotions is a peculiar drink: nectar sweet to the tongue one sip and then lemon bitter the next.

Neon flashing, people chatter and bustle, oblivious to how I am,
Light accentuates and texture morphs to create a scene from a Van Gogh painting,
A dial is turned internally and the heavy beating of temples subsides,
Fumbling hands smear wax over the cracks of my sub-conciousional dam,
Angels, demons, clowns and harpies return to the ravines from whence they previously hid,
Waves of relief tinged with disappointment meet me as the reconnection with reality occurs,
My high flipped over to a low, head so heavy with fatigue, drowsiness infects the limbs,
A blood rushed mind creates treaties of peace, but gets affected by a remnant poisoned needle which creates paranoid eyes.
Written by stryder
Published
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