I feel the death of something physical,
And at the root is a no words could describe,
But if you know what I’m talking about, Then you know what I’m talking about? Kind of transition is taking place in the universe inside of me
And if placed under a microscope,
You might find an object I might mark with a sticky label typed “dimensional”
The metamorphosis is painful
I feel my back cutting with splashes of color bursting,
Ready to fly to every place envisioned through dreams dreamt since childhood.
And the eyes seeing clearly,
The ethers spiraling in fluorescent wisps reflecting prism lights,
The senses took a fast it seemed for the past two weeks,
Feeling so deprived at its peak,
And finally Falling freely like flying towards a denouement
Sensing a new approach towards infancy
with each sight, taste, smell, touch, sound, and heart
Receiving and splaying back in sharper and subtler frequencies
Sensitive and smooth like the soft fragrant skin of a baby.
I hear the whistle beckon me
So I dance with the ethers,
Twirling around until dizziness puts me soothingly back to light lucid sleep.



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