The wish bone in the crook of it's neck
Finishing the rest of what consumes his own mind
Any margin too explicit to be held back a space or two
And no more French and Spanish speaking women if my life, so
Turn over the collection and light a incense?

The blankets wrapped and these kicking legs seized
Feeling completely disconnected
No more *** organs or jazz organs, or memories of my teenage origins

Of course the ear drums aren't ready for the grocer's preserved goods
She didn't say, and it seems she wont
Better off that way, otherwise you might end up saying something
that can bite you in  the ***, later on

Tonight's post sleep, is
For contemplation purpose's - I'd like to reach with my eyes toward above me
Looking at the sky chaotic with speculative guessers and other seekers, who
Are leaping out of their bodies to surround the ethos like the next dimension

I'm not unhappy, but rather quite imaginable

The ending (open ended)