I can feel the sunlight on my back but it is the middle of the night. The psychedelic carnival with a circus of those purple zebras outside my window. What a marvelous din they make, the band of fools and actors, the gypsy woman's wonderful spell transgressing into the depths of my skull.

Learn what you can from this momentary place, the place that is the echoing familiarity whose essence is the treasure that mankind seeks, holding hands in the dark with lips that know each other.
(better)
To see the beauty in a single wavering line. The flowing rush whose electric pulsing heart explodes in yourself.
I can see now that the lights are themselves the changing and vanishing flowers that bloom from dimensional seeds.
These are fitting beasts.

smaller within
smaller's place

cells within
cells

The awful awful crawl of the ants upon the wall.
Push push it to the edge edge the ledge ledge of the beds, freak my (HEAD) from worms, the pink fleshy extra-dimensional Grub, whose huummm may echo in the upper most octaves of the gorgonzola'd grail, steel rail you kissed into another place, the face, the face place with a leather clayse. CLAY! the Mandog's winged eyes who observes. And of the Orbulance? That place and beast who's vibration still reverberates within the cavernous (HEAD). dead dead. The time of the head recognized as the mechanical construction of kings from a different time. The characters in the book, the troupe of beasts and Sapiens that make up this dimensions rendition, the pastiche of an ancient play.

My age! My age! And with this new spring of youth too comes the stillness of mind and of trembling hands. Lights that retreat back into moving hands pour from darker walls. The glimpse of lost and weary eyes whose container is the very (HEAD) in which lies the key to my sanity. A pillar (HEAD to (TOE), MAN< SNAKE< GOAT, the gaze of beasts trapped behind the animal wall. and we, too look back on their ignorance in distain, as I have done once before as I sat in my dungeon beyond the human wall. But I could not hate what I once was, the ORB that we are had yet to reveal (OUR)self.
Continuing. In the pleasant way we have created I think we will be alright. To sooth one another's frayed nerves, whose exploding fractal dress is the crude caricature of lightning's scar on dry earth. To find another who has seen the end, the cliff where I have built my home, and as the earth falls away month after month and year after year I have learned to expect the splashing waves against my ****** cheek. But here too, another. Who waits as I do for the world to slip from beneath naked feet. Mine too rest in that earth on a cloudy day, as the rain has not yet come. And so I may wait with another in that doomed house, and she who has my lost eyes lets me see.

You took your sight from an eyeless man. Words told by forgotten prophets spiral from pupils pulsing with the poems of those who lock themselves away. Dimming lights bring the new spectacle, the ants who chant in a liquid chorus pasted on the walls, whose (KING) or (DUKE) or (HEAD) magistrate orchestrates their tumbling crawl. And now, in the arms of one who has seen these for themselves, do you find that the (HEAD) yet wanders? The boxes checked and questions answered, is there nothing left for the restless (HEAD)? Laugh at your own misfortune  and let the things become their own selves. Back again the one in whom you found your missing eyes. The one not put off by words of (HER) own making. Now this is really something you say to yourself and fight back against the NEMESIS (HEAD)