II

 II They decided well, to end. My heart my breath my wall. Spoils. Shit. Unbarbed. Thoughts, who merely stammer away. Awash with a principled morning. My tribute to a long grey shore. Far, far beyond reach. Whistle. I will raise a hundred shores. This is a ring, a dynasty. Lost time incidents. Get out. What is it that awakes the shore, it is who does not begin to sing. Stay! Stay! Late in pine that dreams colour knows beyond system repair shore project does not pile up, received info to fraud dips in radio pretends itself a feeling. Comes expands and gets shot and can’t breathe and that will simply never work. All beyond is binary and still inserted to deflating you, my own true corridor, beyond the fortieth floor on possible. A hand reaches from the shore to the sea that inscribes life beyond the use of caning. Then fear flares into a tongued yellow knot of clinging skies. Permanent trap. A thing bites in, resume, to the wreck of routine to track it and its own self down. As though too much closed end. Targeted life would live to be called alive again. Click think make grief suffer you. Make sky pray an index by a ration its brittle path outer out end everything ever about you gone away.