Multiple fantasies

riding one dream,

my own nightmare

starring I and not I

splattered on

walls of thought,

that someone planted

just before I arrived

or so it seems, for

in dreams, yesterday

and yesteryears

are always just before.

Strange labyrinths,

filled with condemned

deliberations,

nirvanas stuck on

pieces of canvas,

that someone pissed on

and the smell of karma

sour and foul.

Gate is locked and

the key is a potion,

tucked inside a

witch's cleavage.

I turn around

to seek exit and

find myself trapped

in bizarre obscurity,

my company a creature

trying to eat

its own mouth.

 

Fivos R Drymiotis 10/12/2005