On a bizarre acid trip to the depths of the moon,
solacing my inner angst with mercury and indifference.
Luminous, appalling colours of the rainbow enchant
as I challenge my intelligence while phosphate star
dust flakes my eyelids, what toxic, colourful snow
flakes that materialize and hinder my retina’s.
Inhaling all the faux designer herbs, feeling
them seep through the cracks of my brain folds,
fogging up my frontal lobe, I’m floating in an
enthralling aura of fiends and brutally bitten angels
with rusty halo’s. Exhaling thick-cloud rings of
smoke so monstrous that ghost can somersault
through. Where is my state of mind at? If I was
able to think perceptibly, my muse would sense
it out in the brunt-azure sea, sinking to an
abyss of alien seaweeds that’ll consume each
polluted atom and piece of fresh flesh. I think
I’d have nothing left to call mines.