Cut my hair with a kitchen knife, he

Was a blindfolded visionary. everything

And nothing was going on in his precious

Head, overfed on ;



Chemicals and conversation



A speeding train without a station



Crashed at my event-horizon



Feeling for the switch to turn his eyes on.

And in the news, they have to say he is a

Blinfolded visionary. i scrape the clouds

Of rouge from his face and he's white as

Noise.