I was crushed by a forty-foot man. I didn't understand. I didn't see his
Hand
I saw the cracks in the palm of his hand, as he squashed my head, as the
Soulless giant said...

I was lost in the cruelest of realms, when I saw your print and the little
Drops of ink
That you left by the side of the road, where the elephants rode, where the
Orphan birds were sold

I will follow your scent to the end, to the end of this page, to the start
Of my old age
And when the souls in the know concur, I will eat your stress and we'll be
Done with this mess