Just one more time

Cold turkey

A deathbed scene, the Mescaline dream,
`Jacking up with the spike in my vein,
Backstage pass to the Theatre of the insane,
Working the magic, the dreamy motion lotion carries us along,
Borne on the Gossamer wings of midnight messengers,
Dance the slow Tango into the abyss, but I dance alone,
Searching the soul,
The hooded figures converge, ready for the Black Banquet,
The menagerie throws opens its doors
Perspective rushing back and forth,
As the Griffons pick at me,
Piece by piece
Falling backwards through the spiral,
Blinding white to the other side,
To you,
Wonderful you.
Dreaming as only lovers dream,
Contented in the white orange warmth of my dementia,
With Reality kicking in, Pinpricks in my skin,
Running a cheese wire through my troubled mind.