María

It floats, slows down, stops, retreats. Perception staggers with the inconsistent flux of time As mind wanders, fuzzy and numb, And body slips into the swirling quicksand That surrounds and usurps the senses, Dissipating known and unknown forms. Evoked by the bliss of vertigo And oneiric shadows of sound, Drooping eyelids invite this dream, Injecting a soporific Deep into lyrical maelstroms That know not the stylistic Shades Nor the thrill of the third paroxysm. Indeed, as they say, from a haze Emerges a buoyant subconscious, Laboriously drawn forth by the inexplicable pleasure Of having loosed the very fabric of being. Intrigue, infinity, and the metaphysics of Mephistopheles, Yes, even language and her sweetly disposed nullification Intrinsically mesh and burn together To create the microcosm of the blazed, To unveil the fool and his folly.