I often yearn for my suffered couch.
Lie awoken, unconsciously broken abrupt,
The night hails morning --
A significant continuance.
Brand new technique I crave,
Old images I ignore.
Foreign tissue linked to sane unity,
Misconduct controls the area.
New day of guidance --
New day of death --
Made born to create pleasurable havoc.
I imitate a pastime -- not a favorite.
Only my senses keen in on the new prize.
We forgot our others, promiscuous teachers.
-
A block we travel.
A street we abandon.
The start of a known day.
The end of an unknown flight.
The birth of a minute.
The death of an hour.
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