If eyes are hidden behind curtain of overgrown fringe, are they really there?
If spots are hidden behind sheets of yellow-brown foundation, do they really exist?
Or have the eyes, and the spots, departed from this world and entered another?
Do they dance the tango together, in an alternative existence, in celebration of their dotty escape?
And, when their energy is spent, do they try again to escape, to enter into a third existence?
And, whilst on that journey, do they pop, like drifting soap bubbles?
Like the imaginations of the vivid
– all revved up and with nowhere to go?
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, April 2019