Journey through Purple

Driving through a semi sea. Lines of red spawned from past journeys race ahead of us as pale dots of beige return. The world, a simple canvas of deep violet and blue canvas, a backdrop for dark green trees and a road lined in steel on either side as electric candle burn furiously to signal to the world of our approach. 16:55 blinks in deep red continuously, as inside we heat up to resist the sky outside. splashes of red break against the world beyond and we sprint on all fours ahead into the darkness.

An orange house stands solitary in black. We are under water now and we don't want to change it. we are forever lost but we travel, we run on the spot and the world moves around us, the road is black as charcoal and is lined in ice cream white lines broken and uniform likes civil servants keeping the unspoken peace.

Trumpets blow continuously in and out of tune to announce nothing. Inside princesses and harlequins that were never to be chew the fat that hangs in the air and ring exotic bells to expel the silence . Televisions turned on to show nothing but a black picture fuzzing from the hidden light behind, running around and around the clock that shows 17:09 now in pink. The light in front of the bus shows the front garden that sticks onto the front of the bus and journeys with out new home.

Now we are in a stadium and it snows and snows and snows. White rain starts from the ground and floats up. Little booths rest on their sides in the center with their lonely orange lights switched on. The center of the stadium is lined in yellows lines and spot lights that punch holes into the green sky. We are surrounded by empty red seats. As we leave the stadium behind we past massive signs that tells us about christmas trees on pluto and show soliditary letters. 5 i p z xt and j.


I just look out the window and explore my imagination. I turn my head to the front and look through the fish bowl into space beyond. The road and the sky and switched as the stars line the land in front of us in a column of three. Suns and plaents race each other into the darkness behind us and we sit to watch lonely lamp posts in white coats of fireflies stand as landmarks in the deep black ocean of the distance.

A small poet sits beside a mechanic on a tug boat that floats along to a tape recorder playing the sounds of a train journey. An orchestra sits in teh next room tuning their instruments, as a group of jugglers make their beds in the room opposite. The poet sits looking at a dildo that dances to the tune of the untuned violins of the one armed virtuoso.


As it lunges forward the world is created around it