by Dee Sunshine29 Oct 2019
MOURNFUL HEAD. MORNING HEAD. RAINBOW BLISTERS ON YR FINGERS
Stretch up to heaven and yawn a big yawn into the wild blue window.
Snatched back yr scratched bag. Big sex grin as you throw yrself out
of the covers: all period blood and sperm smell wafting up to nicotine
nostrils. Rainbows & dreams all over yr eyes. You were Kerouac last
night, jumping a freight train across the mid-west, irony on yr face &
meat in yr belly. You leapt across the quantum and over the moon. Drift
dreaming beyond the precipice. You uplift. You live. Talking in tongues.
Raving like a fucking madman. Tic-talking. You chuck yr watch over
the Talahatchy River, train thumping by, obliterating the sharp shattering
cacophony of watchspring and glass.
Kali tells you it will thunder, but you don’t know. Always there is
that pressure in yr head. The sound of sirens, bells and screams: a tumour
of tension and dreams... and always you are running like fuck, running away;
a murder of blue-black crows in yr hair.
Freedom. Freedom to feed yr dreams. Tinnitus head. Dreaming
head. I AM MISTER RAINBOW, you say, I AM THAT BIG!