Speak to me on a level never felt. Past or present... Standing tall, in defiance of your collar bone. Hallow be thy- oh you! So prized, by alliance again with science. Cold. Showering signs, lined with sticks stacked in stones. So true, like a fish in, out of water asking why fins get so stoned ? I don't know. Like fresh salt licks sold in Seas. To Scholars who somersault brooks, reeling in only cheddar cheese. Acid reflex follows. Brought up by sequence, as only in secret we agree to disagree. Too heavy, and when the feather flys free, simply be. Against me is the scenic way. Believe it. Oh so miserable me. Take the next exit, now so sinister seen. Seek me out. On a plain never drafted. Now or later. See if we climb together, only to be asked why ? My answer ? Foul ply in a sea saw. Holy on the other side, reeds and all. That's because we open doors that at a distance, freely fall. For us, of us. By us. FUBU not. Fear us, because we clot blood. Shot out, to fish Brook Trout and blot out flower buds. Give me reason. And I will. Give me you and it's done. On an ice burg tip, cooked short of common sense. A shore once was, for us. Of us, on this ocean trip.