from a planet of dark matter I take form and a storm is mastered,
torn between chords and patterns my core is shattered
past clouds of ignorance I stitch unusual images,
accused as witches for our use of digits
two different percentages wagering ages for weathered terrain
feathers are brains for birds that bother to learn the best services,
we hunt peaceful vermin,
sneaky wordmen claiming to be recently converted
next work: Officer