A blink that lasts until the dream seem
real. They never come to me, were to
active in thought, I knew, to look
past the sea that flows there,
when the eyes are busy, looking
behind. An incorrect
state of mind.
I ventured here to find them seized?
Because the words you spit,
drain me of rhyme. You live across
the land so dry, and getting here took
three horses-but you sour tagged breath
still finds its victim. How dare you.