whenever i walked my feet didn't

quite fall in a straight line because

sublime surrealities dance in your palms and

at midnight i dream that they are real

as the streetlight outside the window plays D minor

and colour blooms behind my eyelids.

orange scented rain blossoms into lime tasting thunder

and my mother's iris blossoms sing in greenish hues,

soaking up the water

it was visions of a moonlit morning

that beams upon the cold, silk sheets

that swim under what lies within our skin (decay)

so lets dance to chromatic sounds

and chords too deep to hear

until our senses spill into others

and we become infinite.

for they can't even fathom what

we're capable of.

(our veins are tied together in a ribbon

stained with watercolour rainbows)