My mind is a menagerie of moments.
Each thought passes a baton to the next
Like never-ending relay runners circling,
Going around the grey-matter track in my head.
Leaping over hurdles of happy birthday,
They promenade before the throngs
Of mirror-image judges and juries
In this gallery of introspection.
Blatant truths hold no sway
Nor can they convey the Pollock painting
Superimposed over this portrait of Dorian Gray.
Come share my meal of glass and frass
Collected from broken memories of wooden statues
Carved to resemble every person
I’ve ever pretended to be.
Have we met?
Step inside this carnal carriage ride
And watch the world rush by,
Frame by frame,
In rotoscoping reality.
© Brandewulf 2018