if the wild was beyond tails and ribbons,
was beyond
some unleashed dragons
and the strangest of dreams,
what was it; that brought the thoughts
so driven to this sharp, wistful drain
when eyes closed on the night
and all i had was your hair,
the blue, hazy siren of your hair,
piercing the pillows
where no other bit of you remained
from the outpour of many other images
that squeezed my brain.

where you,
the sleepy, the shining voice,
echo all over the walls of my perception
my weakness for you growing wilder,
eating up my kite's tail.