Pacific O Mouthed windy after-noon on the coast of California as long white strands of sand stone hair conjoins to the membrain of Oceania, and dips deeper and deeper like the snail tenticles of a Man-O-War Reaching toward the mute mermaids, even Further- and Men with gills crawl up the Bonsai out there growing gills, like I said as Insomaniacal sings his Mantra: "Let's go back into the ocean" Over and over, undereath a Bonsai opposite lung, 'neath the sun who shuns anyone in sphere-star presence too long with a warm and toasty burn. Look deep into the eyes of bored angels who float above the bonsais and leave their halos hanging from the branches 'cause Earth is H E A V E N L I E S T. Look, you're breathing you can't see them NOW but it's evident that Trees are really just the complete opposite of lungs. It was then, that I harvested the unicorn and replaced her forehead food with a beautiful spiral cone that shined for thirty seven years (In one moment). I was not hungry the next day, Riding that unicone into the morning of sandy sheets. I don't want to be awake any longer
