Like A Monster
They’re like a monster—
memories, expectations—
coloring the now
not psychedelic
but strange colors, like dead plants,
wood from an old house,
feathers in dry dirt.
A monster with bad crayons!
I have oil pastels,
a good selection
of richly pigmented sticks.
Fuck that monster’s grays.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
This is kind of a
companion piece
to Psychedelic Shadows
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