070208

i'm bleeding in green.
perched like woodstock watching from the top of the doghouse
i start dreaming in orange.
waves and drops, wondering about the forces moving them so.
i surf through orange juice and beach on sands of grass.
each blade responds to the tips of touches.
we sit on a carpet of worn plastic
i've found a new game, and i'm giving it your name.
legs like chalk, walking clockwork with each stride.
under two denim moons that raise and lower the tide.
the black night reflected by white tiles of skin gleaming against a raised tinted window in the sun
illuminating the panorama through a blinding shade of crimson,
the sun scorches the land of ideals.
the green catches and flares flames of lionic proportions.
roars and movement. causing commotion.
i wake up to a spectrum of ultraviolet.
nothing is here and that includes you.
the target has been changed.