Did you hear what came from a lady in the darkness of the alley, seemingly swallowing so sickly since some silkscreen pair sank songs, and poor-lonely-immigrant songs up into brackish bliss. Did you think she would end up killing Mitch? Did you think she would have better control over her bloodlust? I for one always believed the possibly apocryphal claim that it was possible to be consumed and wrought up by shadows cast with no other frame of reference, such as a long-handled shoehorn form peeking out of the separate branches of alleys opening to pocket spaces. Greenery. I dreamed of a tree that handed down a tray of food to me whenever I was hungry and lifted me up into itself when I was in danger. It could smell and taste you, sense the beating of your heart or the electrical impulses generated by your moving muscles. It could speak in a way that closely resembles morphine’s waves. That night in the green room when It murmured to me, helped me think as I dreamed. I was wide awake before dawn, and as first light streaked the starry sky I heard the sound of ponies whose hoofsteps just erased all the walls and did the miraculous sifting of her form out in the middle of what once had been a garden. And she stood there as a teapot, which I thought was rather fantastic, and redeeming.

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