I usually snooze after a bonfire of love, & like flames sparks glow, not one note of cynicism vis à vis whom I adopt.

It’s better after I begin to wake I’ve landed. A roundhouse in the sun is great. I merge at the top, asleep..
Moreover, I landed. A roundhouse in the sun.. the left knee was just there then took a variant position in summary terms of a sequence of scratches —

an honest hermaphroditic itch gerrymandered in ambiguity until it goes away, released at last into newly impartial states, witless after a while, undead.