INTO DUST

I 'ad a vision an' it was not the fuskin twiloight
of me jeth. Not behind the hills me throne.

Just a white sky separated frum the lan' fer a thin greyish lion.

This thirsty lan' filled of green minds. Naaa pus. A too dificult future as ter fink abart it. Naaa possibilitoys.

Wiouten the trepidant risk of zombie's movoys. Just yaouw an' me an' the infinite drought.

Maybe sum friendly pet with us.

An' I wrote it ter remember it, An' I feel not bolloxed, not alone, not bamfoozled, not even lickle
prick.

This bai worken, the times am changen.