Atmospheric Dream

I came to visit you but you weren't living there anymore.

Instead you lived in a strange sepia flat round the corner from a roller disco night club. Your smart blazers and jeans traded for fox fur collars and lightening wheels, I didn't recognize you. We sat at the smoky bar and you  fed me peanut flavored lies. I tried to recall if I missed anything. We finally walked down hundreds of twisting winding stairs to the hell of the ashen street. Three blocks and under the archway you smiled, but it seemed so toothy. Your flat was all angles and glass, with round beds the likes of which I'd never seen. You promised they would hold me, coddle me, let me sleep the dreamless sleep of death. I was afraid, and after putting my case in the cardboard cubby, I fancied I saw a path in your mirror. The mirror was trimmed in purple feathers and Black Death though you couldn't see it. Sharp eyes followed me as you lulled me to the liquid warmth with cocoa and biscuits, you showed me old photographs of people we'd never met. I fell into a swoon and you carried me. We took the bright blue car, the one with the black interior. I threaded towards  Wroxton St, Mary but you turned me round too many times. I needed Dr, B. to assess my situation. Driving the narrow lanes, cows dotting the hillsides. Past the Rollwright Stones, the Stonehenge of the Cotswolds..so close to my destination, but lost with you and your words. Alone in the countryside there is no one to hear my screams.