essay: #016: Screams of the Butterfly

Venice Beach.
Sunset.
Facades.
Behind which, lies the past.

A woman says:
"Come run, I tell you your fortune..."
The sun's setting.
All sultry and sepia.
Palm trees, swaying.
Tattoo parlors.
Sandy vista out to the horizon.

All Kool Aid.
And dreamy.
Doors of Perception.
Screams of the butterfly.
Nirvana...