Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Death Spliced
Gardens of Paradise

A census of hallucinations;
A paranormal connection.
The night before the full moon,
but where to be found, was Eden?

Seemingly outside herself in
a distorted glass head reflection,
She is a bow-tie wearing apparition
in autosaved formats of disconnected communication;

In this tirade, desensitized blockade of wires,
Eyes lost in the sky, the stars seem to change colors;
I will thank her for my pointy limbs,
and be sure to send her a mother's day card.

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