Reflections of a Mad-Man

Looking down, I see my reflection in the sky.

The ocean above in never ending motion;

Floating, Drifting.

I see time melting away into the dead, pale skin of tormented pictures.

Flashing lights, whimsical in their existence, create nirvana for imagination.

i

The sounds of echoing, whispered silence help embrace thoughts of hopeful delusion.

d

Wandering through my perception of reality, I find I have stumbled upon a forest of intrigue.

f

Up has contradicted the logic of down, as I seem to have awakened in a painting.

p

The artistry of a mad man.

Corrupted, fine colored strokes, meld to create my hallucination.