My Imaginarium

The Madness of Sunflowers

Small information in black and white packaging, the opposite is true when I will it to be. The contrast propels development and growth. The leap to attempt greatness is greatness itself. The fall is defined by the height you attained. Mountains and red rivers, blood ponds and the written sculptures that surround them. The monoliths, designed before universe and truth, measured only by themselves and for themselves, linked only in the dreams of foolish painters who forcibly remove their own hearing for the madness of sunflowers. The swirl of raised color and texture. The heat felt by inner discovery, the outcome of yes, and the resistance of no. The wind reveals and covers the past, the sand is upturned and the glass scratched for 5 minutes straight while a task is accomplished. The shock of lightning is created by a waterfall and spread throughout our bodies, the bolts travel in and out of existence in accordance with our state of reception. They may have the past and present, but I have the future. The unknown amount of time (other than when it begins). The mechanized rhythms pulsating at unrecognized frequencies destroying buildings and bodies. The mechanized rhythms setting my walking pace, my thought patterns, and the words I write, and the order I write them, and what I write them about. The Methane dream, turquoise and shifting, characters morph into one another confusing meanings and also understanding. The liquid diatonic scaling virtuosic serpent, emerging from the lamp and crushing the statue.