Are There Fish In the Sky?
*In some sort of way, this is what started it everything @.@ I mean, my actual style,
along with other poems that I wrote before; enjoy, and thanks for reading the product of
my voluntary pushes into schizophrenia C=*
Are there fish in the sky?
My ideas asked once
While they drank in the sink
Falling over my shoulders
Such questions produce fatigue
As I inhaled fresh transparence
With no blue still around
Thought about bubbles
Being turned into clouds
No need of green smoke
To answer this doubt
The music draws unreality
Pictures, footsteps of a child
Play with my mind
Nail your hands on it and open
Just to dig up a flash
They suddenly pop out
Breaking free
With the light
Such a surprise
Yet my ideas dance
As if they knew
What used to be breathed
Is now a liquid brick
A dense one, indeed
The question expires
Fades with a sneeze
As I come back here
Perhaps an all day dream
Effects of the morning mist
Although…I look up
Just to perceive a shadow
Swimming upstream
Towards the sun
[Why not?]
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