Slits Poem by L'Angley S Delmonte

Yellow always is comes to spinning
Swirling whirling
Face is blurring
Twisting in on body
Tiled floor of the car
Humid scents, sights
Sixth senses it
Let go and fall
There's nothing it's this mess of
Shades of madness and it's
A ship slightly too large for
The crew of
Fancified words the flower pot
Sunburns are just memory
Hold it down it
Keeps springing back up!
Humid sounds the
Loss of voice and
Melting into the pan
So
Scientifically placed
Ear to ear to eye
Membrane to not quite
Voice like autumn
Eve there
Fury quelled it's
Greys and doors they spin upon
Their one way hinges
Abaft!
Glossily
Metal clinking like water
It's nonsense it's
Nonsense
The most normal instinct known to man.