i watched the paintings dance upon the wall
i want them to hold my hand
and i watched london bridges fall
cascading bricks into never never land

little aliens kissed my skin
leaving marks of roses and daffodils
yet they were small as pins
and left me through window sills

i watched the universe be reborn
swirling stars a whirlpool above
i couldn't help but truly mourn
the pure and dead white dove

geometric forms informed me
mandalas writing stories of ink
but it was a language i couldn't read
yet it was one i think

one may think i've lost it
but really i'm not mad.
i'm simply endless wit
and that's truly not so bad