In the mind the wersal steals br and picks his way through entreals br of undigested days br that would make dreams br of dry wothered hay br that had its sappiness removed br by fearsome uncouthed broods. br And in the shadows lurks br unformed childhood quirks br that have waited patently br for the chance to prounce br and impart a drench'ed sound br to your taught pigmented lips br as you turn and churn br in greamy states of rest.