dial back on the brain
when Whistling Heart
is flirting gobsmacked with actual flesh...
mute the raven bots
in your
Rorschach Blots -
and mop the stars with your blood, all through the Winter
of your Inferno; Lost in the Volume of your own Eye...
kindly stalking the unicorn in the mundane spots
where the Earth lay clod, and fossil amid the mysteries
surrounding it's God...

but never So Open minded.

so evenly
at Odds.