A ‘can’t go’ won’t come-ness,
Can't flick through, can't thumb this,
An eyes open blind, deaf and dumbness,
A disunity in the oneness,
A triple ripple on the still pond-ness,
The mill pond whose stillness begun this,
It's fun, this no fun-ness,
Or at least so funny I shun this,
The swagger might make you think that I won this,
But I spun this,
If it had a tune I'd happily hum this,
But I lie,
This wont come, this,
I made up this abstraction ,
To distract from the numbness,
Like a thawing from eternal winter for Mr Tumnus ,
Squinting I see a human child emerge from the sunless,
Portal, that parts the worlds from their undress,
And clothes you with warm flesh and fresh breath, that tells you 'You've run this',
So breathe, and feel and be,
The real you busting through, breaking back, to out gun this,
More awake in my dreams,
And now I've begun this
