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A fly on the temple of the fragile stated mind,

To live to not impact the world to impact the world,

To have many one words and not the power to array,

No lack of silence, no red pen,

“Should we go outside?”

Oh, a dream woke me to be understood,

As to not be understood,

The pressure-lock is compromised,

Hit the big red button,

I cannot continue to be as if all can stare,

And I here sit sinking and graying their impressions,

So grey flat-pancaked the walls have known no higher a degree of compression,

Form forgotten not, only by what’s never learned being not forgot,

Longer and further we go with the same large rocks in our pockets,

One day to admire, one day to down us in the river,

Down us with no greater pressure than this gigantic spectacle for what’s worth one world,

One world, maybe less.