Classic Poem

Far away
In the third-floor-back of my skull
I feel a light, airy, prurient, menacing tickling,
Dainty as the pattering toes of nautch girls
On a polished cabaret floor.
Suddenly,
With a crescendo like an approaching express train,
The fury bursts upon me....
My brain explodes.
Pinwheels of violet fire
Whirl and spin before my bloodshot eyes--
Violet, puce, ochre, nacre, euchre ... all the other
Colours,
Including jade, umber and sienna.
My ears ring, my soul reels.
I tingle with agony.
Who invented goldenrod?
I wish I were dead.
Aaaaaaarrrrrrhhhaashoooo!