Stain glass tile iris Clouded up thoughts cut short seem timeless Little miss nineties, little white tablets Little eyes dilate, caught in the moment Amphetamine shaft deep blackness stints Pinpoint inside the torn apart big bang Expanding think tank anguish Slice in the fabric, mice in the makeup Ditto of a dotted line blank telegraph Ship in a jar, pen a path backwards Ripple in an ocean Still born syllabus jitter bug glitter ball pupils struggling to focus Following the circles and lines and the night as it wakes up Breaking up background, back down to syllables Little miss stand-off flowering in autumn Born before caution, last calls for boarding, heart racing forward Part way to glory Eight winds are calling her downfall, proud walls crumble when she takes much boundary evasion Stage fright princess In-depth tapestry in low-fi pixels seamless peroxide picture Exposing a semi-fiction in every instant moment Clinging to potion whispers Or is it wisdom? Cloaked in a smokescreen, coasting on feelings empty In wonderland playing out a colourful enigma Her planet goes deep down the rabbit hole precipice Leaps from the static as she reached for the panic button Sleep with the paranoid, wake with the blissful Wait with the worrying in star-struck screen face dream state DOS mode limbo Pressing the escape key for reason Little miss reach for the substance, it’s never that simple Chorus: Analyse this from the other side of the spectrum and range, outside the kaleidoscope Of the sane with the bland counting the spiders in whirlpool spirals Cold rush of the virus in vein, other line dialling a string of nines to herself Hoping they’d analyse this from the looking glass, not imposing Little Miss Ninety sweating on a bed of roses Deep black cinema, blank white retinas flash like serenade Quick time high pace life span Glissando emotions, case open, file name ‘fair ground’, sounds seem deafening Forgotten in a white wash morning emulsion, Click tracks accent electrified comas projections of holograms Walking with corpses and hearing the calls of them beckoning Little miss write her own sentence Little white polka dots ready for her rescue Heads buried in the sand steadily erasing, any trace many fates written in a silver glaze Tipped for the finish line ribbon of her artificial matrix Crippled by the little smiley faces, lucid Join dots released from the blueprint Dropping anchors, like splash in the tide of the past Flash back to the future Thoughts dissolved down to words then burst into 3D Learn from the wise eyes gripped by the depths All immersed in a crowd left drowning in shallow waters that don’t move her Learn to escape, colours fade in the light, cascade into faraway pigments Emerge in a grey dawn from the womb, fresh blood from the wound, whiplash Parachute bites as the sunshine blisters Falling like crash from her discworld, waiting for her Tinkerbelle to save her Close to the brink, little white speckles glint in the sun’s glow, fit for the unknown Little bag of promises, any kind of flavour Taught by the white pebbles, drink the remainder Little miss sleepwalker, seeking clarity Remembering that dreams always simulate reality