Perceptual Transitions

Out of the darkness, blinded
By a gaze of white. Air
Meets lungs like fuel to fire.

Lame limbs mark
Infancy’s greatest struggle,
Yet the journey home appears

Blurred. Behind bars, gawping
Mouths move uncomfortably
Close, speaking white noise.

Coiled in arms, floating,
Observing: tongues drooling,
Tickling food

Everywhere. Even
The quiet beasts swaying
Are alive. Everything lives.

But how everyone
Changes! Nine ‘til five,
Sex on Sunday, drugs deprived.

The beasts are quiet still
But move little, apart
From timid shakes here,

There. Legs point to the sky
Like chairs stacked
upside-down.

Noises become a small
Whisper, everywhere.
Everything disappears.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s