keep the diary in double time, double down and ante up on don't care compulsion cos life's laid along hours, a lonely cocoon of daydreams secured with nails to time's anvil. in the dream cathedral, a little vision's inheriting eyes that feed on fumes to survive the brain yard of operas. it peaks and falls with rapid eye in the light stream. it wonders around iris water and overlays other worlds built on fantasy machines. a teaspoon of fatigue becomes a compass load to leash the angel and the witch as proof of pet or prisoner until the alarm's red numbers are stunned in sunlight; graveyard seeds always die.
