Channel-surfing aisles on various floors

of a library--during a reoccurring dream.

Some sort of active pursuit, along with

knowledge.

The library was at hazard capacity,  

except for when & where I needed

undetection.

The patrons were a cricket invective on

nonlocality, both emanating from &

inhibiting me.

I'm the magnetic pursuant I'm running

from, as I'm repelled forward--everything

in the library is stuck to his/my gaze.

It was as if I commanded: "Get thee

behind me, Satan."--having that already

covered.

Its lighting was like a virus that was

about to possess its host eternally--in

concert with a rainy day.

So figuratively saturated that it was going

to dog-scrap-tear me for its own.

Now as a reoccurring daydream, I pause

to write: imperceptible change astonishes

its sensitivities.

Of all its interminable regulatory rates--

exemplified in the drainage of this black

BIC.