It's ten days later

you still can't sleep.

"You're a mess."

You're a ball of wax.

You can melt. You can mold

Rub your nose in it and blow. That's all - it's simple. They taught us to do it when
we were children, and expect that we can still do it now. Clean your ears. Clip your
nails. Comb your hair. Brush your teeth. You need to eat, you need to breath.

Breathing, bleeding, weeping, dreaming. And our english teachers still believe

We remember alliteration.

We remember the the finer things: the acid rain,

wings cut, and legs broken - the most exotic of doves, and the loveliest birdsong I've
ever heard.

What of you? Lulu smiles, oblivious. What of her? Become that which What Comes brings.

If she brings with her a simple smile, she'll sure entrance you. She will entrance us all.
She who forever meanders. She who stole our attention. She who rendered progress frozen.

And ask me - with a stupid face - where the term "witch" came from.