Spinning. Spinning, falling…falling…spinning down a rollercoaster. Falling into a blue and yellow airplane! Flying through to the edge of the sea. It wasn’t the end of the sea….It was the beginning of the bottom of the pit. The abyss. It felt like rain. Something was burning It was molten rain. It was like molten rain. The sky was pinkish with a purple hew and a man in a yellow tie asked me if I was single. I told him I was dating an ex-con and he moved on to mingle with others, including a carrot topped midget woman from Aspen. I felt the tap of wind against my face…it wasn’t a hand, it was a breeze from a doorway that lead to a church. We went in and said hello to the people getting baptized. I didn’t know they were catholic until they said ‘in the name of the father’ I had to leave that place and was swept away into a red blue cloud. It wasn’t the sun, it was just a cloud. I was on phase nine though. So we would have to stay there until we found another way out. We were trapped in the black pit…It wasn’t the end of the world though We couldn’t remember whether or not I’d left the water boiling in the kitchen. I could hear something in the attic and went to the parlor to take a shower in the white sprinkles. It was cake sprinkles and I could taste the yellow pudding in my mouth. It was pudding cake. The way they swirled around like daisies in a winter mist was beyond my jurisdiction. Blood from pewter veins and a crooked eyed Kuala bear was the topic of discussions for the few Goths in Memphis. I think he had the flu. I turned to him and asked him why he was staring at the lavender ceiling fan furthering his motion sickness in the back of the van, but she simply continued her trek through the woods leaving me and the fat, bald woman in a gray tie behind to wallow in our happiness, the happiness we’d find. We wallowed in our oneness and peace of mind. But that’s not how it is, we simply mocked our differences. It wasn’t normal for me to be there, so I shifted to the right as the bewildered frog leapt across my shoes and flew away onto the lucky rainbow. It was a turtle though. A purple turtle that looked like a hungry walrus. This didn’t make sense because walruses don’t live in the ghetto. “At least not in West Philadelphia,” chuckled the blue haired man with the green trousers as he continued on his home made napalm. I wanted to see it blow up but I fell on a mosquito bite size candy wrapper full of chocolate fun. It tasted like a party of five. Fifth Avenue. An elephant. Good memories. A remembrance ceremony. An open casket funeral Tie-dye streaked hair sat atop the troll priest’s head as he eulogized for the kid with the purple socks who sat behind me. He was a good kid. He pushed me to the limit and I tripped on an orange cucumber shaped freckle. It laughed at me as I looked at my army. We were ready for war! I was ready for face painting. Did somebody say mocha lattés. She was mocha-colored so they called her Beyonka, in memory of the late child of destination. I shot the sheriff, and I shot the deputy with a purple fly flew across my facing the walnut tree trunks and whiskers on kittens, brown paper packages tied-dyed with string, these are a few of my favorite things are starting to look better now that I’ve found my watch I can tell the time for a surprise birthday party at my place!