Thursday, October 13, 2011
The kind of insanity you sink into, half-asleep, when your thoughts become a small mountain of pebbles sliding sliding slippery onto the calm surface of a pool, releasing a chessboard of ripples, that collide and multiply in a web of liquid flurry, an ever turning, ever-expanding kaleidoscope of a million shades of blue. The kind of crazy thoughts like agitated storms of birds in a glass figurine shop, a mad beating of wings smashing vitreous Minerva into scintillating bits. The kind of mindless murmur that sounds like detergent poured into a fountain (naughty Cupid,) bubbles on bubbles on shining mounds, a sea of translucent worlds, weightless, nothing. The lunacy I slip into when you hold my hand; electricity shivering in runnels, through vibrating veins, bursting in violet potentials.