in the tempered spring of consciousness i float along the winding river of whimsical wonderings

so far from dry land

this abomination in quasi-human form, trembling uncontrollably, from nerves or exposure or a combination of both

ethereal epidural patches that blossom with strident colours across the bare patches of mindless inconsistency

longing for a dock

it is pessimistic optimism that keep reality just out of fingers reach as salty spray sends shivers of ecclesiastical pain shooting