I spin the bottle

I spin the bottle
and the water drips and glides
into a reflecting pool
I watch the limpid glass pane
it is sweet
there are no tears, no salt

I climb the stairs
into the factory
there is no mudguard
for the pain that seeps against my heart

I feel as if a generator is using up
the extra energy lost in my soul
spinning it out like wool
braiding the threads like a dynamo
weaving my thoughts
into a quilt
a sheepskin
with which I can clothe myself
hiding from the monster
inside and out

I sit on the chair
staring into mid air
hoping that the bread of life
will prove to be more than the jellygraph
that resembled the jellyfish
I once saw melting on the beach
which reminded me
of glue and of lost thumb prints

the sky is steel grey
I aim for the truth
and seek perfection
striving to prevent my fears
to harpoon the unicorn
that symbolizes this divine beauty

the old man smiles
and twirls his mustache
as he looks down upon the world

I run in circles
mesmerized by the memory of days past
and those to come

once again I climb the ladder
descending into the pool
spiraling into a jellygraph
that melted into a jellyfish
hallucinated high
on glue into that unicorn
that then appeared so perfect
and now monstrous and odorous
a skunk escaped into my field of vision
and poured into a grain of salt
transformed into a diamond
that spun back into my bottle and was flung down the rabbit hole
along with Alice

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