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Seeing higher realms
In color coats they shift the walls
They do and don't exist
In radiant hues they penetrate
The spirits on the mundane breed
And I await in fascination's delivery room
Tending to
All the newborn elemental codes
They go fro and back and mate and multiply and paint for me
With senses splashed in colored brush blot sprays
They birth a smeary story I have never dared to read
How stabbing is the artist's sharpened tip
On my three-piece throbbing head
Mischievious is their play
Was it they
Or did I just prick myself?
Exhausted, weak from all the astral plasma spills
Something stays and through the point of skin abrazed
My loss is their gain
And now to turn illusion on its head
I see that I am different not
When I come back
Alive or dead or somewhere in between
I see
And the world sees back less worrisome to me