Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

poetry screeches when it oughta be silent.
it scratches my cranium incessantly, flit flit.
it wakes me in a dream, impostor of a dream.
the scene takes too much work, the visual,
and that's not even the half life of it.
once you dig in, oh those metaphors.

flit flit is the bomb!

** flit **

those metaphors pile up
like a lucid dream told by terence mckenna
in soft sweet highspeak
appealing to inner flashbacks
been there done that, but wasn't it swell