putting on tonight like peter pan trying to put his shadow back on with soap. it just slips right back off. if it is darker inside my head, how can you honestly call it night-time? the space between the stars seems as bright as a candle, though during the day it wasn't much brighter. i feel like teeth in a cup, all the world about me disolving like denture fizz. but you gotta understand: this is just the way it is inside of here. i peek out through the keyholes & see the world, but man, all of my real living is done on the dome of the skull, & that dome puts that muslim joint to shame. i talk about the swords & knives in my heart & i can't say as i'm exagerating. at least i can't time travel (other than sixty-seconds a minute) which i hear fucks things up worse. not that things are fucked up. besides my head, which is a doorway into a hallway that leads straight on till morning. sometimes that door just opens up like the elevator in the shining. sometimes.