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 I was not there  on the other side of the door  the balcony was cool  and littered with boxes the freed hands of the fool
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weekdays withering, unending afternoons foreboding darkness, music droplets scattered in the wind  pain shooting up  the intestines and knotted insides like the grins on the carcasses  a heap of dead cats  
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The student sits by the gigantic window That opens wide into the minty mouth of morning Sunshine streams through And coils up to die in the warmth of the chambers Calmly goes forth the lizard In the certainty of life, labor and death While the putrid fumes of dead time  Permeate the obese corridors of history
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