Flight of the Psyches
Upon the brick, a spray of neon hue,
Where painted wings awake and start to fly,
Graffiti of butterflies starts to brew,
And lifts the heavy concrete to the sky.
The rusty fire flights dissolve in the air,
As swallowtails of crimson softly gleam,
The alley morphs into a vibrant snare,
A lucid, wild, and rainbowy dream.
The asphalt melts beneath their phantom breeze,
While caterpillars whisper through the wall,
And urban shadows bend upon their knees,
To watch the urban architecture fall.
This aerosol illusion takes its flight,
And turns the dullest grey to starry light.
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