The Weird.

My mind is on fire.
But the fire is moist
It dampens the otherwise.
overactive nodes.
of my headbox.

With delicate scrupenty
the wall of my psyche contracts
pushing what little sense i have
out from my noseholes
Making my consience valid
if blue. Last but not least overidden.

Hands to my tempels. Tunes, be my ride,
blind i must stumble, the beat at my side.
my emotion state is crumbling
and i am filled with the pre-created
The fabricated nonsenssounds
that would enable me to swim
had i only the soundbased mirth-like appendages.

Gather, one last try, the weird. The tired, the nonsenical,
react through absurd to become the reality
Wich i could not express
alone.