Pictorial landscapes drift through the
Picture windows residing in my mind
Pleasurable impulses invade my veins,
Pursuing my every move,
Pushing me over the edge –
Purpose seems inevitable;
Pendulums swing across my vision,
Pens draw confusing
Platonic images, giving
Pain to all my joints;
Possibly, the only reason the
Purple stone is still here, is
Proportionally different, yet it's still
Purposely confusing;
Punching my way through hell,
Paying whatever
Price I can, yet
Purchasing every ability, plus more;
Perchance I make it out alive,
Problems might still increase,
Plus, more would ensure,
Prying my soul from life;
Probably, all would still be well, for
Pain often gives insanely dreams,
Performing illusions that would disappear like
Phantoms in the wind
June 29, 1997
