Reality pealing at the corners of my finger tips,
revealing secrete bones like Oz
and pulsing red wiring,
with white eye lids silent yet blinding
and rounded white-out eyes,
blinking in an array
like lightning’s popping
and firing.
Oh God
I see your scandal in the browning of trees passing,
my gages they lie for we all have stopped still
dead like the dead,
besides the pared spot lights wavering beside all the others,
stop and disappear
change
move and then emerge pulsing in red.
The skin on my shoulder is leather just like the upholstery,
of the world
where it is feathered
Oh God
Oh God it’s fraying,
and tickling my inners until they spill out my white lights,
while still the coupled up globules are blinking
and then swaying.
Stop
stop to a screeching halt and then like dull
dull bees humming,
like static with a frazzled wire
a steely peppered flash,
screens and screams breaking
shattering they turn up just like sirens,
and the lights reappear before my spinney spider webbed dash.
Author notes
This is another one of those things I think of when driving to work. I know it seams a bit out there. The lines don't seam finished and have improper grammar and punctuation and the images seam random and repetitive. I did this on purpose. That is how the main character thinks. He (or she) does not think logically or with good grammar. their thoughts are all bouncing around, resting on some insignificant irrational images then dashing through the rest.
Comments
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Thoughts are realing like you said, but they usually do when we are driving, we perseive so much around us how it can really distract or have us retracting or retracing everything around us...interesting write. Well done. Blessings.
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