hot dry wind blows through the magic realists house
streamers stream out
the blinds rattle and clack
plants bob and weave
oh how he longs for some dark still room
never never to wake up
in this blasted light
to this blasted truth
what soft music shall accompany him there
wherever the journey make take him
frogmask snaps on the wall
snapping at the turbulent air
the glass trembles within old windows
sudden overpowering uselessness
monsters from the haze appear like white lights
pointless struggle all those years
theyll eat him yet