Cair Paravel

I put ignition on the coveralls,
My teeth squeaked the rates.
There are batteries in the floor of
Devices in drawers of the nightstand, requested to help him start,
I undertook this and shot into the workroom.
I think that you took to me in downslide, destruction was biting,
Reduction was writing,
Rented by a fine dream of the pen and the paper.
Children of glare;
Made so real,
Through the yolks of their fingers, leaving me in definitive arrest, unbreakingly silent,
I'm not repelling braided memories, threefold in thought.
I remember what you said to me: "Work with what you've got".
So I worked,
And I worked,
And I worked.