If you could see into my mind,
And witness my imagination,
The cerebral alchemies at work,
You’d be both mystified and sickened,
Perhaps alarmed and inspired,
It’s a funhouse with no safety rails,
All ice creams and guillotines,
Clowns and lilies and landslides,
Horror and wonder beyond my eyes,

It’s a nirvana within a nightmare,
And vice versa,
But it is where my palette resides,
Harvested from the very fields of my wit,
The darks from gloom and hopelessness,
And colours flowing from my oddity,
All of this ink is required,
Regardless of its source,
To force this imagination on to the page.


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