Cinnamon

Written for: Tweetspeak – Surrealism Poetry Prompt

slip… slide…slither
through grass growing high past clouds, stars, skies, other worlds, taking my reaching arm by the hand to the mouth of yawning truths, suspectful, cheery, (cheering) lies.
mixing yesterdays with tomorrows, forgetting today, there is nothing but nothing -(dark).

drinking port, laughing, pointing fingers through shining-lights for eyes,
piercing with exquisite pain
feels so good
I can only sleep.

In sleep- wonder/wander – soft dreams.
I taste smells of ‘Cinnabon’, in Subway cars I ride each day… where I jiggle and juggle and tumble
next to other Subway riders…

slip and slide and slither together into cinnamon dreams -and back again.

Written for: Tweetspeak – Surrealism Poetry Prompt

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