Up and down I go, spin around the round vestibule about which way do I go. Turn now, I think. Unsure howevermost I appreciate. Your attempt and love too, kindness. But I’m afraid it isn’t working out, don’t cry. Just sit quietly. Dark corner drown moan ground down in dust and flames and burning bodies. Hold out and on it’s almost gone, I promise. In the dire light the fire flight the hose pipe with the power. It’s saves lives it doesn’t live. It washes away the fruit that have fallen. Bruised on the ground beneath the tree you lay. Lay down. Rest now. Sleep now. Fall into it. Into the cotton and the springs and the floor that supports your back. Feel it dissolve into pearl pixels, melt into your vision and hear the drum of the numb washing over, under water. You are. You’re under water. Breathe. Gasp, choke? No. You can breathe. You can breathe underwater. Fantasism organism culminate in marvellous ******. In the church, under the steeple, amongst all these strange and foreign people. Why do they cry? Out in anger and pain. And softly in distraught emotional confusion.