While the barrage of signals points,
A new compass leads the way
To industry and fermentation, longing for a new chance.
Its a thought, not all the way through
You must give to this
Your expansive time
In that dream, yes I saw mutants in my words
Humans too disturbed.
By the mountainous flesh that lay there lying there.

And uncovered,
Was a dream.
In which I could talk,
And carry about.
Only, they had to know.
And so as his eyes punctuated forth,
Drawing mirrors of silliness
The fragrance is the pasture
And the wheat is past her.

That’s the way we could talk,
And I’m not talking,
I’m drawing,
And soon it will catch on,
That you and I are both drawing.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s