It inhabited a small portion of your brain,
...flash forward,
...slashed forward,
sloshing the liquid of a fishbowl.
The hand slowly reaching down,
to the titled ground,
angels pour out pints...
of eyes and mouths.
It cat scratched the paleness in her creme lit face,
never reduced the light,
never slipping out of the
thick covers...
In depth cornfield signs,
in the telepathic wormwood,
engraved in the wooden skull
with grape fines and cherries
within the eye sockets.
The cat is curious as it passes...
Her hair is flying...
with the leaves,
many many stars follow...
as the moonbeam swallows.
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