The thing unspooled
distinctly like an id
Escaped from
penitential realms of pain;
I gasped in horror at
its simple spire
And doodled tracings
on a distant bag.
Revengers looked upon
us from on high,
Astounded by the
tapping all around,
As forty naked
virgins surfed the clouds
And haystacks danced
upon the raging tide.
As quickly as a
smokescreen fades to grey
You synced the times
at angles often missed
By trackers hidden in
genetic jails
With crystal locks
still rented by the day.
Back on our balcony
just after sunrise,
Drinking Proustinis
and playing at nothing.
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