Insanity - the fourth dimension of a rainbow
 

A dying man lies at my feet.

I lean down and kiss his ashen cheeks with lips of jealousy, and leave him to fade in the morning sun.
The horizon glistens
with candy kisses
and pipe dreams

that catch with a thousand sparkles of light.

Slowly a surge of responsibility beats upon my chest, and I rise to seek the day.  I find myself in a clearing, set on each side with memories. 

I chase the darkened ones, leaving beauty to ride bareback.


They taste like rotten steel inside my mouth, and bitterness courses through me as I fight to swallow.  I wonder if it will always lose its sweetness in the end.  Is the illusion of life meant for nothing but eventual fading?  Are the people that hold its hand simply not free enough to realize their voids?

I fear that destiny is a tree that I will never cease to climb.  Its bark tastes like the earth, and its leaves like the wind itself.  I feel the voices of the many trapped within the heartbeat of its grains. 

Once a prisoner of forever, I now see myself in the rambling of a forest stream, or a single beat of a butterfly's wings, folding myself in the cocoon of my insanity, and coming up for air only when the water tastes cold inside me.

I am starting to see that illusion is the shortest path to our true selves.

I am lost in the very river that shelters me
and fills me with my path.

I am lost in the world's anger.

I am lost in love
for a day.