Visions of an acid driven madman

On is the night,
the colours come,
the colours go,
fade away,
drown in the blur,
that is a madman’s
mind. High on
the poison, low
on life, searching,
hunting, someone,
anyone. One’s self.

Was it before?
Was it after?
Which came first,
the loss or the poison?
The hen or the egg?

One is the other,
both are the same.
Is it rush,
is it horror,
is it both?

It needs to be.
The brighter the lights,
the darker the shadows
must be. Step in them
and drown with the
lights spinning away.