Architect of My Poetry

I'm diving into the darkest corners
of my very own abyss, 
abyss I hear you say? 
why yes, the one that lives
in my very own mind of course

 
the one where I swim beside
the three headed flamingo
she's wearing a golden thong
her flippers made of cork

 
on my other side is
the black sheep
I love her, she's wearing
Prada stilettos
I hear her moan
about her baggy jumper
of unravelling wool
that goes on for miles and miles

under this great ocean
untangling is a giant blue octopus
holding his cell phone
in one of his tentacles
indecisive to choose which one?

 
last but definitely not least
is the neckless Giraffe
he's holding a book
 'Where the Wild Things Are'
written in Latin
crying red heart tears
into his swimming goggles

 
my eyeballs now raw
from all this unbelievable imagery
knowing all the while
any moment now
I may well wake from this
the magnificent theatre
that lives inside my mind? 

 
because, after all
I bloody love being
completely and utterly
bonkers mad.