When bound to that Reality Foundation
When they drool over plucked flowers and killed birds
I would go hitchhiking to the turbulent
The travails of the lost, the rhetorics of the unconscious.
Scrutinizing the timekeeper and his monumental years.
Into the intoxicating absentia of spastic morality.
Unadulterated by passive reality
An exuberant charm of an exotic poison.
