As what could have been plain as day
slowly slips into a lunatic eclipse
without given reasons or even predictions,
just carrying a feeling to stop all believings
one last coat of polish upon this blanket is drawn.
Draped'n tucked and snuck away to cellar,
babyhead woozies shushed with sugars
entering from a secret way under the cocoon,
body gradually inflating, the brain of balloons
journeyed to the other side of everyday sound.
Here, now, the runtime proves a lucid character,
who, finally released from her eloping sheath
orchestrates what is next by her artful taste.
Once-shaped histories to freely come forgotten,
ethereally lit, bosom-first into her articulations.
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