Noah

Acid Trip

So close to the waves
That my arm hairs have become
Needing the plot they wash to shore

Drowning in the curiosity
That the pictures begin to sell
As they unwind into themselves

Bleeding colors into the rich drywall
Breathing graffiti onto every inch
As I become the center of the winding way

Here I am, lost in forever
Moving upward
The only way time can