one sense triggers another, and so they create

 

silky songs

from a young tailor

that sound smooth and strong

and caress like a savior-

 

the poet’s false bait - making art so unlike the others,

 

its glimmer smells medicinal

as the musician’s instrument

reflects truths unconditional

and made lovely scents disorient

 

so words bounce around like rubber. The artist ate

 

continuous crescendos

that tasted so sweet

because when concluded

made delicious treats

 

of lies at a terrific rate, his poems let him smell color

 

that pulled at his hand

with some lovely aroma

And his one-man band

formed a perfumed coma

 

but his senses couldn’t recover so his senses turned hate

 

into decadent ensembles

that revealed red confusion

and the taste of blood

let nonsensical fusions

 

conduct the final symphony

and destroy - death by entropy