my mind is so full and there's no output
there is no slow flow over, only pregnant desires
my wires firing, singing in light at night the opals
bite my subconscious in drunken dreams of otherworldly things
I want to live in a mountainous place
I want to swim through fountainous lakes
I want to slide sweetly down the slopes of white mountainbacks
I want to feel fruit in the winter's dry cold
I want to supercharge my undersides
and never be old.

From the moment I'm awake at night
I watch the day break into light
the purples of a burning moon
illuminate th'approaching dawn
I cannot seize the consciousness
that life is so much more than this
what calling I am said to find
if make-believe, shakes up my mind
in wonder about the Everything
that I still have never seen
in the morning do I feel
the most impressionable.

Once heavy in the wet black cold
through sheets of ice and silver gold
a white and lofty precious mould
begins to drift along.
Along the rooftops of the rocks
atop the pitch of pine cone locks
in fuzzy white around the fox
that snow begins to fall.
Quietly the storm begins
softly touching nature's skin
breathing foggy from a chin
and stopping time from deep within

...

from months away with less to say,
and nothing that I know to do
the stories ringing through
my eyes wishing in me for so much