Collage

No rest until every moment passes
through mind travel of night and day.

Smile of death resides in a bungalow.
Close proximity of enemies turn up heat.

Talking to hidden friends out in the cold.

Sounds of angelic guitar feedback reverb
off the backs of dying millionaire shysters.

Scene, decaying in the test tubes, leaves
an aroma trail of embryonic afterthought.

In a corner like a coat rack, the black and
white road hits a dead-end roundabout.

Reservoirs surround each side of a vision,
protecting ideas from total destruction.