Cinnamon Senses

All the blossom blooms in resplendence,
Perfumed fragrance and colour rendered in silk and firmament,
They dance drunk in tunes made by wind instruments,
A cello shallows its sound to a hum less dense then milk,
Red wine sunshine,
The flowers drink it in lush gulps to line their stems with sugar and spice,
Only night will bring sobriety but now ecstasy will suffice,
One pill popped twice,
Jesus Christ didn’t sweat this much when he posed on his last podium,
Beats now like pendulum,
Greatly empowered preternatural sensorium,
Transferring phlegm with sexually sensuous beings of glamour,
The lavender sway in soft melody over the field floor like pulsating seaweed,
Shaking seeds in beads of sweat,
I am slowed by their motion and concede to their sway and their wet,
My mind travels with the wave into each bulb,
I’m pnematic,
Nomadic,
Stoic,
And electric,
Peace,
A bomb,
Pour more neurons over me and cover me with cinnamon.


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