Dream work

Walk through The Persistence of Memory, 
That would lead you to the land of time 
Where droopy clocks melt into slime 
And the echo’s of the ocean always mime. 
The tree of life rests lifeless and bare on a block 
Which expresses anxiety, and its planted 
In a distorted dreamscape 
in the middle of a broad sweep of sand, 
The sand is dry as a concrete land 
In the centre of the desert 
Lays a disturbing mutated face, 
Which has it’s tongue oozing from its nose 
That can be used as a hose, 
And the face is in the shape of a snail 
Which looks very frail 
As the skin becomes pail. 
So as you walk through The Persistence of Memory 
In two thousand miles of surreal land, 
With unreal, haunted objects that begin to make you mad, 
You begin to hallucinate with brightly coloured, 
Rainbow colours. 
 
Note: this poem is based on the Salvador Dali painting "The Persistence of Memory"