A Trip In Your Library

[RiverNotch]

Original:

I am under a quilt of skin.
In darkness, it begins.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world we know.
Oh.
I feel like I'm going to vomit.
Is this what they call a "bad trip"?
The world is spinning round and round,
yet there's nothing here I haven't found
outside the waking songs of mother nature, my dear guide
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world we know.
Oh.

I am under a wooden roof.
My mind is all aloof.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world I've seen.
Oh.
I'm looking for a novel.
Is this how a rich man grovels?
This place seems like a library,
yet there's no light to read
the detailed prints and dialogues of our gods' designs.
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world I've seen.
Oh.

I am under a golden queen.
I wish I had not been.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world that's gone.
Oh.
I see the warmest fire-light.
Is this the end, the final sight?
This house is like a film I've loved,
yet nothing here is worthy of
appreciation in the cities of man's sanity.
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world that's gone.
Oh.

I am under a raging storm.
My love is taking form.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world of time.
Oh.
I find you.

Your hair is refuge from the cold.
Your eyes are vital jewel bugs.
Your skin is silk from Xanadu.
Your breasts are supple temple domes.
Your neck is heaven's heavy trunk.
Your arms are perfect birch-tree stems.
Your vulva is a holy dove.
Your legs are ever-solid stakes.

Your heart is graceful foolishness.

And all we do is talk to stop our lights from breaking out.
FLASHES
OF COLORS
ALL ALIKE,
ALL UNLIKE
THE WORLD OF TIME.
Oh.

I am under a waking day.
There is nothing more to say.

First edit:

My eyes are under their skins.
In darkness, it begins.

I see them!
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world I know!
Oh.

Reality's earnest embrace
Now chokes me breathless, out of place.
This world is spinning round and round.
I'm lost now, in these malformed sounds.
But then they form sweet harmonies of mother nature's plan.

Now I'm under a wooden roof.
This world seems all aloof.

I am looking for a novel
(I am looking for the devil):
A dream-born tome of heaven's cost,
a mirror to the Lethe-lost,
a detailed print and dialogue of the Lord God's designs.

I find it!
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world that's gone!
Oh.

Now I've seen the threads of fate.
I have felt all love and hate.

In front of me is fire-light
This is the end, the final sight:
A paradise, a house of love,
a place of nothing worthy of
appreciation in the cities of man's sanity.

But heaven is for the dead.
I'm here all too ahead.

I'm cast out!
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world of death!
Oh.

I'm still looking for a novel.
(But no longer for the devil)
For though I've seen the afterlife,
burns still my heart with awful strife:
a passion base with freedom's price unmade into a thread.

Now I'm under a raging storm.
My love is taking form.

In front of me is fire-light.
Is this the end, the final sight?
I push and pull to your embrace;
I am choked breathless, out of place!
You're somewhere close, yet oh so far behind my memories.

But then I find you.

Your hair is refuge from the cold.
Your eyes are vital jewel bugs.
Your skin is silk from Xanadu.
Your breasts are supple temple domes.
Your neck is heaven's heavy trunk.
Your arms are perfect birch-tree stems.
Your vulva is a holy dove.
Your legs are ever-solid stakes.
Your heart is graceful foolishness.
Your words are solace from these rains.
And all we do is talk to stop our suns from breaking in.

But we lose!
Flashes
of colors
none alike,
all alike
the sky at dawn.
No!

I am under a waking day.
I have nothing more to say.