Grantchester truffles 2004

Distant hum of machinery . . .
Voices fragment . . .
Face in the mirror speaks silently of
broken glass reflecting blue moonlight.
Ignorant grey fear.
Illusions of freedom.
A tear drops into the river,
rippling across the sky, my mind.

A still green mist descends,
intricate weaving of light on closed eyelids.
Vast, infinite darkness.
Fluctuating streams of thought.
Crisp sunlight illuminating this purple flower,
it's inescapable sadness momentarily visible.
The film whites out.
Flames appear on the horizon.

In an instant I am drowning,
frozen by waves of fear
and sucked under by the fathomless swamp beast.
Silver-blue liquid eyes,
transfixed by TV circumcision,
burst open with raw atomic pleasure.
Reek of burnt flesh . . .
Face melted to the road . . .

Psychedelic bicycle spokes
unfold my head in the wind.
Echoes in the tunnel.
Thumping certainty of death.
Sudden attack of white numbness,
liquid nausea burning cold.
Mad eyes blinking through
rivers of sweat.

Distant hum of machinery . . .
Voices fragment into Sunday madness . . .
Face melts into the soundless river.
Broken eyes reflected like moonlight.
Silent flicker of aquatic voices.
Airless curtains breathe,
superimposed mushroom cloud.

White mind fragments falling
in blue cosmic gyrations.
Luminous brown clouds
forming expansive nodules in the wall.
Leaves sway in the wind
tracing cloud-like sadness
on my forehead.
Face remoulded in the purple dawn.