Ignis Fatuus

It's been some half a year now

since the hibernation of my soul came to closure.

Mind and soul gang raped the body

with shock troop of neurons,

who’s blitzkrieg conferred refugee status

on a body fleeing from it's hermitage homeland of analgesia.

Now the soul is unchained

and body and mind soar over landscapes unbounded by horizon.

Flesh once pierced now smoulders in languid hues

of turquoise, ultramarine and cobalt.

Indigo limbs pulse out superluminescence of saffron and gold,

illuminating the darkened corners.

Eyes direct moonbeams of silver,

marbled with lapis lazuli.

Fingers of cool milky quartz

shoot screaming white-hot rays

enlightening jet-black pathways

with psychedelic swirls

like oil slick struck by oblique daylight.

I am deep

within the realms

of acid synaesthesia.


© Chris Bond — 10 October 2000