The Trip

The dawn breaks slowly
Sliding over your skin
Reflecting mirages
of dreams…
And nightmare.

Gold over gold
The sunlight off the buttercup
Slippery with the dew
That fuels fantasy.

White satin days
And black silky nights.
This is you.

The smoke slithers
Through the room
Where the dreamers
Slide on rainbows
Drift on mellow dreams
Reflections
Of freedom and madness
Of Life
Of The Being

Twisting in madness
The dreamers held hostage
In a hostile land
Ask fathom deep questions
Whose answers are lies.