Some cotton in my brain, I chase flicker of misery, Wired with nylon and rocks, I prey for a jinx stain. Still the flicker is remote, Mist of breeze skinless, My constrain vocal, Of a dark veiled anecdote. I caught the flicker in the eye, Of an inside dog And for a flick I read the story That is blooming every May. It's the cotton in the brain, That hits my eye a lot, I will be integrating with nylon and rocks, Just to dream and sustain. Into anther I will turn, For a spring or a two, Skin thirst I will dive Above and under the adjourn. For now only I am float, Of a death and life boat, To the walnuts I obey And to the deepest mote.

To the flesh of pores, To hoax punxies, To cut Inuits, To fur jinxes, To the doom; A prune.

Timber in my eye, Tear is inevitable, Heartbeat rhythm is.

In this time of Ignorance I Pray for eagles.

Cherry on a tree, Sunshine is protruding, Cigarette is burning.

To my father. It's been three years, and foggy sense has accepted peace, With aura of dead instinct entropy, That has placed in my heart viscous; Reversed darkness, Obsolete prayers, Wide open eye, Relatives in mess. Maybe another 12 months will understand astral moths.