Summer in January

These ten branched, swollen bones surround its red rimmed glass with every well intention

Pedal less flowers infest my mind with its walnut smell

Coconut flavored skin becomes part of the off white, stained rug I try not to trash

The well packed aroma is kept on the black ledge of the painting that's plastered over my bed; easy reach for in the night emergencies or quick escaping reactions

A crouched inhalation session from the crawl space in between my bed and the window leads to cartoon like illusions; my dog suddenly becomes human and I watch her as she watches me

As i step my way too worn in blacks into these small versions of rivers, i steadily pace, in a slow motion jog, down to the bottom of my driveway

I trick myself into thinking it's summer and green and the only plants around aren't just hidden on black ledges in my room

Even the taste reveals itself to be less dull and more flavours; color found and warm scented-i found my pedals!

It kicks my legs, drilling my soul in a brief moment of an awaken state of my subconscious

Imagination can do wonders

and so can hallucinations.