Tuesday 9 September 2014

The Orange Lounge

Tin-Can Cosmic,
Swing-AWay And Peel Back,
A Step Out Of Time To Kick It Empty,
Down The Corridor... To Its Ricochet,
Flip It Negative InTo The Air,
The White Room... Now A Black Room,
Now No Piano... Only The Horns,
No Whispering... No Talking... Only A Sound Of Elastic Distance,
No Going Back To Pick Up Where Space Left Its Mark,
Now Standing... One Hand... Holding Its Collapse,
Eyes Craveing For Corners...
...
No Corners... Now All Is Curved,
The Bend Around The End...
...
Corners Craveing For Eyes...
One Handing... Now It Stands... Collapseing Its Hold,
Back Where No Space Is Left To Mark Its Going,
No Whispering... No Talking... Only A Distance,
Now No Keys... Only A Pitch,
The Black Room... Now A Red Room,
Flip It Negative InTo The Air,
Drown The Ricochet... To Its Horrid Door,
Kick It Open To Step InTo Frame,
Swing-Back And Peel AWay,
Answer No Thing.






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