Solipsist’s Dream – a poem



Pain is the solipsist’s ultimate fantasy,

The dread light dreaming on hale darkly,

Like a sickness born from diseased rats

Let loose into the circulatory stream

Of an organism wondrous in the horror

It too oft indulges.


A system undying that feels as if it withers

Under the sensations crooning out cut rhythms

Of what hurts incessant, overactive signals

Streaming through the plasma blood aether,

The pulses broader than what they are,

Iron a steaming puddle dream.


Let fly the nightmares of agony, various

Creatures alive only in explosion, akin

To the bomb, living in the falling, never

Else other than to hibernate, honey made

In the skulls of demons, poisoned sweetness

Swarming as the enraged hive.


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