Wide awake behind closed eyelids, the passion of rapidly firing neurons, flashes of thunderstorm-like consciousness, falling backwards into habits of uneasy dreams at the cutting edge of spiralling hummingbird thoughts and cherry blossoms settling down like moths at sunrise, the sweltering heat of a body-warmed woolen cocoon less comforting than the cold morning air creeping between layers of blankets and skin tingling with electricity.
Sparks of knowledge singing along the wires of nerves and peeling tree bark away until the raw bone-marrow becomes one with sleepy feet retracing icy lines of fleeting sun light, wandering low over the mind’s horizon – stillness of birds on telegraph wires between rooftops, whirring blue sparks recreating whole galaxies at the speed of light multiplied by pi and unfolding into one dimension for every constant and factor ever thought of.
Point of origin, branching out in the shape of a platypus; bloom and sun and winter all at once curling up in twisted ropes of chimney smoke, sky-bound paper ships attracted by singularities, a tidal wave of black holes at the bottom of a mind’s deep ocean, sea-turtle green and lagoon blue, the colours of the spectrum defining speed and amplitude, longitude being as uncertain as flight patterns of mosquitos and latitude as fleeting as bookpages turned, absentmindedly over a long cold cup of coffee.
starfishskies 