No man is sane who does not know how to be insane on proper occasions
- Henry Ward Beecher
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The wise man is claimed insane, secrets whispered into his ear on the eve of reconstruction. Clad in prison garb he is strapped to a stainless steel bed with leather padded leg and hand cuffs.

I catch a glimmer of his eye when I was escorted past to the medical clinic. As I passed this man and struck eye contact as soon as contact was established a movie played in lightning speed thru my mind. Just brief moments stuck with my actual physical memory as most was set back in my subconscious only to dust itself of to replay itself in a typical, Monday ‘movie of the mind’ flashback dream.

I was on my way to scam higher doses of Librium and Ativan, as I paused briefly in the sterility of the setting, the smell of anti-septic, the puke green walls, the worn laminate floorings, the wire-reinforced windows, the clip boards, the red lines showing the path I cant walk out of, the persistant sceam of lunacy slowly all drowned it self out.

As the all familiar white bees came in few the metallic buzzing reverberated a pitching my head as there pin-points of light body structure had them soon swimming in a swarm of mass. I was enveloped into the white haze disappeared from with-in, I am unsure of this place is it a place angels are afraid to leave the footsteps as I see no clear path to follow.

I see a random young girl probably around the age of 8. She was clad in her yellow rain coat, matching boots, and hat. Her eyes were hidden beneath the brim of the hat. Bouncing from one puddle to another with such excitement that only a childish mind good receive enjoyment from such an act. She seemed to springboard form one puddle to the other in such a slow speed that I could wash the splash of the water in a time-frame speed normally not eligible in unless taken with a photographic memory camera with the setting turned down low. A water color wash of rainbow transparency is the backdrop of this illusion?
In the hallways of my mind the climate can be alter like that of a flickering flame. A fleshy shadow silhouetted in white environment caused me to spin.

I was viewing myself from a 3rd persons vantage point a spinning baby in fetal position womb wrapped I was. Spinning in the cosmos, infinite in every position I wished to be, bound by nothing but my imagination. The stardust caused such a refraction from the gaseous orb creating a visual landscape none of the modern painters could ever hope to achieve.

Behind and above me an unmistakable battle of angels and dark angels engaged in a visible struggle. The bright white cloudy arms of good arm-wrestled the grey forms in a swatch-buckling of white and grey soon it imploded into itself forming a great golden orb. Floating above my head spinning counter clock-wise [if that matters to anyone] below my twirling body was a smaller bright white dot. With a blink of the eye they both were collided into my body.

I awoke laying on the jail hospital floor with one of the guards staring down at me. He had a touch of grey and looked like he had worked a hard life. At that moment I felt a strong rush of overwhelming endorphins I saw the movie of the shackled man play back again backwards. Instantly I knew he was set on this earth to atone for sins he committed in a former life. He was a modern day sacrificial lamb onto himself. The hitchhiker of dreams caught a free ride this time leaving me to squander its meaning.

Meaning of what…

The city avenues awash with back-peddling dreams,
caught switching gears.
I entertain thoughts of a miracle,
a mosaic of purple shells made me run around the corner.
Run-down-Run-away…
Captian Johnny grey hair is frayed and frenzied as he signals his horn carved from a beast, encrusted with limmericks of a different sense.

‘Haven’t flashed a smile in a long time’