Half
That half
A frock ripped from one side .
Rusty metal .
A reclusive ideas .
A horn come out of the head .
They navigate the arteries of the street noise
To the middle of the jungle .
As a blind man pulls adrift
His plow grieving .
Six men who see from afar
Notice as memory slowly
The cardinal numbers of victims .
Ceiling below
Marinated houses Spiders
Can not get out of there
Without being hurt
A some color thread
Without trying to be in line to be judged by one
So do not pull it now ..
Nozzle darkness
Away from the fearful blue trigger
That reads aloud
His dialogue with the last three-legged chair ...