Mad world

When last decade I changed my hair colour,

sepia gold, with a tinge of violence,

I lurked around, beneath the crust,

ate cicadas and locusts; believe

me they were a delight, handful of

easy proteins and a cashless treat.

I crawled underground to the trains,

their light piercing my pupil but as we strike

head to head, I am awaken.

This year, my locks hanging, to the height of

knees, with a tinge of desire and escape,

I squirreled away, into an empire,

wide and superstitious; palaces in the

air like flying carpets, butterflies the

lone citizens.

I reached the ears of the winged driver, to change

directions perhaps, but he sprung me out

like a sponge, I am awaken.