Sharp sound bright, night now officially over.
Wetness is warm, soap with slight clover hint quaffing.
Moves with might, infinity; tight skin covering
over intestines. Pressed, incidents fade to past; feces.
Happenings hammered, anvil of present presence ring.
He writes with mental pen in fated ink, faded.
Breakfast: Twice fried egg on toast; butter.
Late for first class; mental books scattered.
Answers three questions correctly.
Nazca lines carve his destiny.
What happens in a day happens eternally.
Eyes closed but watching through lids of cellophane
compounds of the future, enhancing the enhanced:
A lens curved to the impossible.
Waking he remembers nothing.
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