I like the blues
I like the reds
I like the feelin'
That's in my head
I like the stars
I like your shed
I like the texture
Of this bread
Hexagons tesselate
outside my head
Spines are tingly
I might be dead
Chewing pasta
Derives a scent
And I'll keep on sniffing
without your consent
I like the teal
I love the green
Damn the shadows
In my spleen
I think the fridge
I am the shape
We've lost control
Of the garden gate
Look at all this no dust
On my plates
A half completed octopus
Reinstigates
Flowers dance in tepid crust
Looking at my weights
And the other half
Reinvestigates
I like the blues
I like the reds
I like the feelin'
That's in my head
I like the stars
I like your shed
I like the texture
Of this bread
I like the teal
I love the green
Damn the shadows
In my spleen
I think the fridge
I am the shape
We've lost control
Of the garden gate
Bathe the sky
Drown the rat
Envelope your nonsense
In a hat
A fern is there
On the wall
Inviting you
To take it all
"Counfounded in disbelief
His arms were a walrus underneath
I am the Okstlasplust
Of hot white air
But I am the man who is not there
Fidgeting Finland over eyes
But a smaller man would realise
Dissolving indifference up from the stairs
Irreversible manslaughter in his hairs."