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blue tiger called DAWN

Blue tiger called Dawn

Dawn, a creature blue and feline walks this plane sumptiously. A sun is rising here. Out there I sit on a red plastic chair by the window witnessing dusk. I am holding an apical bud from the sunbush tree, contemplating and birthing a tangled stream of consciousness that convolutes under Dawn's plush underbelly. This place has a mist of frankincense, lemons rind and myrrh, a hurricane of luminescent objects that splash in the putrid waters of my waking. Dawn laughs on the feathered fur of a white snake called Indirection, searching in vain between the angles for drafted anguish, who is attached to its hind leg, its sharp talons pocking on my transmogrifying tissues as it lets out a cry every step against light. There is a black artefact, that observes the plane of my subconscious through its lidless eye. Theres a kettle a-brewing making the air pop, scattering this scape with fits and starts of phantasm. My rational mind crawls onto the magic carpet between pear and prowl. Would I burn if i burn in these lucid fires? Or am i melting in this charged air? Did I wet myself, or did I cry sitting here on a red chair, watching as night befalls but i am still experiencing Dawn.

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