Do I have a moment
that I can rise and
be the schizoid spokesman
for the lost children?
In gloom and scattered
they ran out onto the ice and
crackling beneath their feet.
Some saw the fish
rise and some were far away,
like a trip,
or a ray of moonlight
that you can catch the jagged
edge beside the dream.
Others wait for the churning
waters to quell and gather
their things, for the journey
will begin tomorrow.
Yet we arent going anywhere.
Reality recedes
like an order
from the captain
floating on the ink sea.
Think and youre dead.
She tugged at him and said,
He had no way
to prepare for this
oh scaled and protocreature

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