oh you poor thing. damn you! look, your misty eyes. burn them! curse them. your misty eyes, your experience, you worthless, means less than mist. but poor thing, human, it's too human. be coming from death, be ending at life, beneath the cataract misty eyes. foolish and fouled, keep your crescent keys to yourself. end at my times, leave the well. sing summer again, again a foul pollutant. bring shame, invent good luck and bad. string up the angel, place the star on the christmas tree. be happy with your stories and melt them into experience, ignore it all and start again, fresh as a puppy, forgotten everything but air conditioners and cellphones. be true in mind, stay, swagger along that mended course from crib and cradle to dirt and death, the one of countless folds, ribbons before, double helix around your fated string. sigh amongst the bramble blueberry mahem. kindle a pill in the asthmatic's throat.