A Prophets Vision

Rainbows in oil stained puddles
where I watch my thoughts
reflect back in inky black,
catching now and than
in the headlights to dance
in a metallic shine.

How melancholy
this beauty which comes
with fragments of regret,
it is but the way with all poison,
they entrance with their dazzling
colors, the irony, meant to warn you away,
yet so irresistible you want to reach
out and touch it.

Dip my fingers in
and stir it around, but it is thick
a viscous liquid
which falls in heavy black drops,
each one like of my thoughts,
which disappear back into
the darkness again.

I would paint my skin
with these colors as my blood
flows warm within and my eyes
become lost as I swim inside
these dreams.