Tripping

Written by: Colin Marschall

Stealing the ether of abstract visions
my thoughts wander to kiss memories,
resurrected through fractured pains.
Needle breaks the surface, but is 
unable to penetrate the chemical perimeter
that shrouds my conscience.
Drifting in rainbow fantasies,
nirvana beckons with painted smiles.
Becalmed beneath echoed sighs, 
I trip on fractured moonbeams
and wallow, bleeding angst potential

Cream egg sunset melts into chocolate mountains
as soap bubble trip crashes and burns. 

Reality kicks my head in.
Drains my moat of illusions,
exposing ejecta from the real.
Parkinson’s hands grope for salvation,
lying on its pseudo silver bed.
Just one glowing tongue from the candle
to wake the dragon; to prowl my dreams.
Track marks whisper hypnotic seductions
to release my narcotic soul; warping freedom
to fit, snug, as a second skin.
Dripping, piece by piece, into oblivion