S†arry S†ar Crow.

I've
become
something
a bit cold.
A little slower
with my hands,
millimeters instead
of taking those inches with my toes, one step this way, the other step follows, I walk and walk ,yet I don't really travel. I sink within myself, chest like iron shape and dark with a bronze ocean of blood in each cavity, I have no stomach, I digest no bull matter, I understand no Kumquats, I feel no stimuli. I sense no presence, I taste no receptions, my antennas don't function, I don't know what Cosine Beta (Cos B (Cosby) has to do with Pudding. I don't understand what it means to Sin(e) I cant find the angle of any shape that's -gon to whatever degree that means since they aren't there any ways. I trail and trial. I fail and file every mistake and error, that terrorizes me ever so often in my never tireless midnight dawn dreams. So it seems. I'm lost in the night. Im no star, but I feel its okay to say, I'm awfully bright.