Where is your hat brimmed with eyeballs stolen from lashing graves?
Buried under gravel, dirt, grass
The baby graves are the worst to dig
Living in nightmares
Encompassing wretched memories external to history
Every history in response to column-filled drums
Canals prove passable in magical visions
But shadows reject the static
Manipulation reads the best poetry
To trans... to mov... to mediate darkness
Now tears are only caught in wide brims
Eyes brim
Sunlight is the culprit
How rays of cloud penetrate your valves!
Is there no exception found
In the pressure of blue
Too, hues are the only way out
Digging from the inside
Breaking ground by souls to surface
For unrest is only eternal
Shallow spirits dig deeper
Minds, engraved, by heavy tools from the earth
Dirt rises in search of creation
In spite of delusional contentment
How far could one walk
Under such lead material?
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