wisefool

A hand in my head
has touched the hot knob
and jiggled
and jostled
the EXIT.

It's there.

I've seen the hologram
rustle and rostle
a door to a room
that levitates
swirls
and elevates
like it's full
of a much less dense air.

Ethereal air that mist-i-fies me upon contact.
Like an eye that stops a photon dead in its tracks.
An instant de-animation that slings me sideways
and jolts me into another dimension; locked. . .. static with hot vibrations
yet hyper-dynamic as I land with midstride momentum in the meat of another bipedal vessel;
lanky and dank.

All this, as I lay there, frozen as stone and fading away in an eternal recumbence.

Yelling into a cave that shouts back at me.

Hey.
I see you. . .
It sees me too.

A tunnel that eats my screams until my cords desiccate into dust and every pixel of color that surrounds me. . and is me. . .melts, fades, and sways into a primal van Gogh; every stereoscopic sinew stretching and spaghettified as it breaches the 4th wall and tentacles out like the flea-ridden hair of the monkey man that I am, resting calmly in a tree; ignoring the arthropodal appendages crawling up and down and round my crown whilst my mate feverishly snacks on the bodies of these crunchy motile hors d'oeuvres of endless delectability.

I hear a low roar. . .a constant rumble.

I knostle the knob. . . and fatiguingly wonder if any of this is based in reality or if I am merely a static presence shaken by the presence of this heavy night around me.

__________________
Say hello to my frontal lobe.