I Didn’t Hear What You Were Saying

When I close my eyes, I don’t see a naked darkness.
It’s festooned with adrenaline flashes
Scintillating fireworks, strobe lights
And a discotheque rave mosh pit.
Lightning flashes dart in front of me
Or blobs of brightness creep
Slide around the planetarium of my closed lids.
These spots show as light juxtaposed
against the chromatic darkness,
But really they are nothing.
They have no colour.
Disco ball reflections of a black hole where all is swallowed.
They’re the Lovecraftian colour out of space,
Protozoan membranes sparkling like raver glitter,
They eat up more than the dark.
And no one can(not) see them but me.

If I open my eyes to the external world,
With its chaos of colour and shape and texture and motion
The world becomes a screen
And these wriggling, living invisible Pacman nothings
Chase down visual items out of gluttony.
Amorphous amoeba of nothingness
With no regard for the laws of physics,
They crawl across my vision,
Swell,
And amidst a bitching pyrotechnics show,
Gulp down your left eye while you speak to me.