Fatal Trick Up the Mischievous Fuck Sleeve

Milking the precious grains of sand...

Spaces

Where blissful ignorance

Has not yet been met with any

Fall-out,

And we can be

Naked and audacious, while elsewhere,

The world burns on the

Razor's edge

Of the broken picture frame...

...I was harboring wanderlust,

So I abandoned my post

At the detonation site,

And left a trail of ashes

Behind me,

As I went to size

The world up

With my thousand and

One

Fly's eyes...

I needed the valleys, and

Plains

To leap up at me,

And detain me

Long enough for a more

Thorough vision quest...

Milking the precious grains of sand!...

...How does anyone know the out-

come?...

(The fatal trick up the

Mischievous fuck sleeve)

...Yet we try so desperately

To compartimentalize

Everything,

Decieving ourselves from

The pointy fangs of loose leaf

Living...