CRACK-A-DACK-DACK,

above my head.

And the swans' necks snapped in unison.
Through each of the valleys and ever anon.
I am chased by the waifs and the hooligans.

I hide in the caves, but hither they come,
they steal and they sneak through the heath;
and as I lie broken, bent and alone .
I have come to this wretched belief:

That over the aeons - through centuries passed -
there are bones of all those that were lost;
for they, too, were buried and left for the wolves
in caves, that from life, they were tossed.

CRACK-A-DACK-DACK,

over my ears,

and the bullets leave holes through my head.
Please, somebody come, and gather the bones,
of me and all those that are dead.

I feel a little more courageous,
The feeling of restraint is being restrained,
My words form white translucent clouds.

I only remember what seemed to be seconds,
Clips in the short film "Jesse Salgado",
Directed by Dack Janiels.

It is as if my body is enclosed in pillows,
No matter how hard I try to walk fast,
My legs wont allow it.

Slowly my eyes open,
I'm curled in the fetal position,
Im comfortably spinning, comfortably immobile.

The brights seem a little more brighter now,
and this mosaic is only fit to tease me.
Or is it telling me to look forward?