Orgnsm spirit-fœtus incubation

[Hush, may I ask you all for silence?] The dreamer is still asleep. He's inventing landscapes in their magnetic fields. Working out a means of escape. One dies like that, deep within it. Almost inside it. The beginning is also the end. Time defines it, time unwinds it, it will end. Like close friendships. Nothing could be further. We forget the space between people and places is empty. In the heart of your heart, your eye remains. Is the hurt you? Is the blister you call loveless? Your whole life is a cold slow shock. Take a little time, to track the shabby shadow down, the pissy mists of history. [Will he wake in time to catch the sunset?]