Choking on a Blade of Grass

Choking on a blade of grass...coughing up a spider, I lay amongst the poppies and dream of flying monkeys. My body melts into the earth, roots wrap around my beating heart, the blue sky fades to black licorice. I scream but nothing comes out, I fight the grains of sand, of time, persistent, ever maddening and then they come. Perfect rain drops of determination. They soak my soul and a well of life spews like lava out of a volcano on valium. Puddles of thoughts drown my interpretation of a song that doesn't sing but is waiting—to be born.