I'm surely no John Keats you see
before you. Take your seats, as we
explore the Door beyond this reading;
rhymed for times spent worth repeating.
Time yourself in stealth mode, thinking
someone else must have been drinking
Kool-Aid made with Death in mind.
Like those proposed in prose, you'll find
psychosis knows this way of thinking, for
you remove the obstacle by drinking more.
So, read this as the Door before you opens, and begin
to wonder, as you blunder about within
each point in time. These little rhymes suggest themselves in space as
written quite specifically for those near their home bases.
