14 July 2013
I light a candle and pour a drink, awaiting the dawn
I try not to think of the shadows whispering
They beckon and taunt me
They want me to see, but my eyes are weak
I resolve to comprehend, and with psychedelic acumen I proceed
Aided by melancholy melodies
Rapt, my mind perceives the joints and seams of composite realities
There are other worlds, it seems, existing concurrently
Through candlelight and bloodshot eyes I contrive to see
This twilight legacy of inter-dimensional incorporeality
Presently, phantasmal reflections appear
All powder and faded amber, like nineteenth-century photographs
And flickering like the grainy images of silent cinema
Have I summoned ghosts?
Are they agents of oblivion or specters of dementia?
Creeping monotony breeds intoxicating mysteries...
Bleak, these midnight reveries
Bleaker still the remedy
So I light another candle and pour another drink
I'm waiting for the dawn
And I'm trying not to think