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Picture Credits:
Each moment
of menacing isochronal paroxysms
stumbled upon
during denuded veracity asides,
I ascend upon a staircase of cinnamon trashcans,
drinking a jubilee of screaming orange pointers
that twirl and detonate
the cerebral milieu with a plethora of debasing fireworks.
My spheres of sight shield themselves
from an incandescent veil of inadequate mortal efficacy,
hiding behind an eyelid door
of cryptic reverie murals.
As the savage hordes of inculpate incubuses
storm the ivory castle
in my head,
the drawbridge lowers,
revealing a rickety obsidian confessional
where a shrouded
two headed virgin princess sits
giving birth to sacred cows.
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