Bring me back to you in eight
Minutes they are all the time
On my hands before I wash
The dye off my curls.

Weakness my skin prickles
My hands grab the edges of the sink
Hypnotised I am distracted
By my eyes gazing into burnt sands

Reflecting their light on my corneas
Refracting it onto lenses projecting images
To my retinas so that I
Can see the sparkle in my pupils

Rejoice in living fables
In which my mouth is solely able
To utter nothing but a word:
“Yes. Yes.” and “Yes” again

Whilst shivers possess my body
Run down my spine whispering confessions
Of fright afore sentiments
I thought I did not wish to have

Now that I have
Only two minutes left for you
To bring me back
To reality and turn off the light.

[Featured painting: by Tomasz Alen Kopera]