Grogged, split into holographic shards:
Hypnogog reveleations reflect
One dreary dreamer. Divinity
staggers to recall Itself
in matter.
Is God like peppermint? I think him
more like meade caressing
a breeze – just beyond
the fresh whore.
Bands of succulence
orbit a soaked mind.
The mandala, stony gravel out-stations
brilliantly placed in the Logic,
oddly so.
In the centre the most divine Creation.
The nipple more proud...
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