The Colony Of PZYK


Head in a fuzz

eyes speckled

burned by light

ears distorted

to normal sounds

the wristband of PZYK

you get on entry

takes you to your level

whatever level

that is

one of glittered eyes in tie dyed

stars, spheres or paisley patterned shapes  

a weekender looking for Dionysian kicks

all climbing the imaginary ladder

to the oscillations

in their head

vibrating to the tremolo

in their soul

capturing the euphoria

of the heady analogue pulse

beating their heart like no other

reverb repetition

taking them on a train journey

past the industrial spaces of life

to another space

the canvas of the mind matter

where the simple becomes perfect

the blank becomes coloured

where any feeling that lodges

then remains

then is remembered

belongs to

The colony of PZYK