Cotton Wool

by grimbeau

Drifting on a balsa raft, oriental crocus breeze, compass spindles slow, ever increasing circles, heading for the pillowed rocks, supine on a sandy shore, truly past caring

 

After, psycho-narco jollies pass, swoon descends into slumber, groping idly in the dark, letting out the rabid dog, listening out for sneaky rodents, standing tall in a small

 

Hall, struggling on scattered stairs, letting out spent poison, trying hard not to break your scrawny neck descending, nice day to start still life again, will it wet or dry be, where

 

Has the week gone too this time, high up noisome purple scuds, ominous luminescence, wishing for the worst, never hoping for the best, too many disappointments, keep

 

Calm and carrion, sing a song of sufferance, go lightly and with peace, what in these slippers, you are of course taking the piss, getting down to work, incomprehensible

 

Narrator talking out his arse, king seen in altogether, chortles ripple round real tennis courts, balls roll down ha-ha, quite a parting trick, bow low while winking to the

 

Stranger’s gallery, shapes of things to come, spasmodic tetrahedral paper diamonds, off road catastrophes, ploughshares turn to ear rings