Sitting in daylight, random thoughts buzzing about in my head, drink in the jagged edge of fabric torn in vain, blood seeps through cracks in the sandy ruins lost to the golden sea, I’ve seen it all before. Time runs like a leopard and swiftly fades into the light like all the rest of the empty glass bottles broken in a fit of rage, fight with wretched sword and fingernails, lost inside the red door. You seem to be searching for the puppet hanging off silent violin strings, glimmer in the moonlight and ache for stealing a rhyming horde of cannons breaking in the gloom. I don’t know if the last thing I need is a good drink of icicles or a plastic box full of tin keys, but it sure seems like yesterday was such a long sad time ago, rusting in the foul wind, keep your eyes on the chimes that howl a distant melody inside solid rosewood vines as they split your life away, falling into two pieces on the sordid quicksand floor. Pixiedust and spiderwebs melt into the past, they stand as one and fold into the void, the nothing that sucks breath and loveliness of sweeping tiny wings, delicacy unavoidable, crushed in the maze that strikes you down, bitter and unreplenished in its final fading hour. Paper mache thunderstorms and cardboard silhouettes mask the ever-flaming design that burns its way past the masses, cry the unforgotten realm, sing of mold and space anew, just leave it all behind. Willow branches carve their place in history, secretly hide in the vast uncharted wilderness you stand in, only to lose the compass and fly the silk-painted sail from its ivory-chosen mast. I wander with eyes closed, reaching out pale thinning hands to touch some stars of potential truth, just before the supernova collapses upon itself, taking the sunken streams of sunlight with it. Sit and defy slitted techno majesty, kill demons with your stare, and unlock the blonde french slice of smoke that quavers before perfect symmetry of mind. A single captured snowflake wish thrums into oblivion and continues the search, this time singing a duet in praise of prophecy unbound, and so the chase continues in my veins.