Blackout

It is a distinct feeling of everything we have now,
we have all we need and get what we want
How can I push away against a wall that isn't there
I can only put ideas in your head that have already been put there
By your blue boxes
By your green screens?
Maybe thorough some divine imagery thought process
We can all invent a crack,
A prose to thought or a line to snort
From the back of a play house or cafe.
Maybe this "feeling of Everything" is the end of the line
the dusk of the old
And i my head tonight i will dream of ideas and colours a new
To paint and dazzle and spit and shock.
But how can we define the NEU! from the old.
How should I attain to these divine elements
Of Creativity and orgasmic delight, Of exuberant and delirious joy, Of creatures walking home backwards, hands in their pockets and eyes out their caps.
How can I choose what to fall out of from my bed and back to the earth with a spill to the sky?
Perhaps a cut between the eyes is the answer,
Perhaps a cut between the eye Is the key.