When your awaiting the spectre of pastel filters to enter your vision
I only ask of one favour for the man of your physical world
To just spare a thought or two in your lucid gateways
A second in your subconscious will cement the meaning in the words
I just want to surf the scan lines of your imaginary world
Be a part of the centre of your hallucinations
At the forefront of your sack of inspirations
That you reach into when your captivating your audience with your directions
And if I materialize while you skim for captivation
I’d pray you’ll stop on the channel
When your laying face down on the mattress
I hope it’s my name you murmur into the fabric
While your toes twitch and sway
While your eyes flicker and project
Domestic Poetry 