| My teeth taste funny today… they seem more jagged than normal. | 
| I"ve been told that I have been grinding them like the gears during my dream | 
| hours… | 
| I wonder if it"s just my thoughts fusing into one frequent dream… | 
| one which parts with the night. | 
| (There are frequent amongst the walking crawlers). | 
| I saw them dragging the other day. | 
| Scraping their knees and elbows against the bumpy pavement. | 
| Blood tracks have been filling the streets. | 
| Seems the high horse is taking them all home… | 
| I can"t leave myself out. | 
| Why should we sleep today… | 
| why should we awake tomorrow? | 
| We can just pop back a few and drift though this pre-programmed flight. | 
| Across all oceans… a windy, noisy trek… | 
| this seems to be what I"ve needed. | 
| The view used to be better… lands are growing into one. | 
| We wanted it this way. | 
| We were brought up to grow into one. | 
| I"m going to fly up soon and seek other lands. The soothing air of flight… | 
| a bird"s eye view into what I"ve always imagined life could be. | 
| Will it be sought after? | 
| It might just be useless writing and ideas that laziness will corrupt in the | 
| end. | 
| Bones of dust need hardening. | 
| I think the prescri | 
| ption is found. | 
| Sleep on… fly on. | 
| In your mind, you can fly. | 
| My teeth grin oddly today… | 
| they seem to gleam more than normal. | 
| Maybe it will be noticed. | 
| (That"s all we ever asked for. Grinning through it all…) | 
| (In the corner the thinker things: I seem more jagged than normal. | 
| I am the episode of constant wandering. | 
| A nomad in my own surroundings… this hand produces the nerve.) | 
| Walking dead. |