Smell,Taste,Touch,Sight,Sound

SIGHT
1.The roof is warped and bubbling
2.An indescribable light blue
3.A chain resting on a toilet seat
4.The sun setting red
5.A smoke machine billowing from a tea-pot.
SMELL
1.Soft, mellow lemons
2.Roasted, ground coffee beans.
3.My own socks and the sweat.
4.White powder doesn’t smell – it drips salt & lime – intoxication
5.Wood smoke
TASTE
1.Lemon Calipo
2.Two breakfasts; cheese, eggs, beans
3.Light roast coffee, tart, bitter
4.Orange in a cocktail
5.Cigarette coughs.
TOUCH
1.The cool of room temperature water.
2.Rough hands
3.Rusty eyes
4.Scratching armpits
5.The smooth metal outside of a plane
HEARING
1.”What is that ringing sound?”
2.New music
3.Someone spitting
4.An explosion of coke
5.Laughter of friends

SOC
My stomach is full of beans. It’s a good feeling, not too uncomfortable you know? It’s nice getting back in the swing of things. I had an OK day, missed a deadline, got shouted at – but it was all OK. I have just the right amount of plans in life – to get me from here to there. I’ve always been envious of people who are “steady”. Got it all ticking along. I want my routine to be so that if it’s interrupted, it’s a blessing for others. Like if someone was to stumble into my garden, they would be teleported into another world of majesty, beauty and effort. This reminds me; I should probably purchase a big red Japanese style gate, similar to those found at the Inari in Japan. Gifts are great.

Special K
The couch, I was paralyzed. Lyric-less beats played on and ricocheted around the room softly, gently. My two new friends invited me to share. My head lolled and my breathing slowed. They asked me what I saw. I gushed unfinished sentences. Spewing nonsense. There was no beginning, no entry point to capture all that I was seeing, feeling, hearing, remembering, knowing, say-saying. No doorway, just a revolving wheel, the waters of my mind flooding over senses freely. I lolled left, an ugly black-eyed face. Always there, so often friendly, asking and caring. Distant and coming closer; searchingly it glinted, eyes, nose, fore-head glinted, narrow and sharp.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s blue and indescribable’ I said.
It was a three colour stroke, with a ghost like a chess piece in the middle. It had depth and a shadow, lines that hinted at three dimensions like a corner of a room.
The grounding space was the roof that we all sped towards. Intersecting lines, warped past as I blinked slowly. Too slow.
‘The roof is warped, warped and bubbling’.

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