hanging from the ceiling of my mind
unedible lies of dormant micro-organisms of despair
clothed as spiders
covered in smear
locked down under layers of butterfly wings
dripping flows of endless streams sheltering dead fish
eyes open wider than wide
hunting mesmorising angles through the traps
behind the leaves of our past
there’s life in a splash
of coloured amusement
smiles are sometimes just wrinkled disillusions
of the soul.
have you ever wondered what hides below?
or behind, or within. Behold
lived on the rim.