Intoxicating
Are the tendrils
Of colours
That are slowly creeping
Into My Mind
Are the sights
That are making
Me shriek with laughter
Are the thoughts
That are making me sigh
With pleasure
No, it’s not madness
My darling, you are wrong.
It’s a drug.
Compelling, and
Almost consuming.
Imagination.
Lost In Expression 
Excellent. I have an excellent poem on the subject which was sung by the author herself years ago (1982?) in Los Angeles when we lived there. I will search and pass on. Thanks. Maiya
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Thank you so much 🙂