a whole world just to the left is wet

a whole drowning world lost off library left wet
just covets moisture from snapped dry words-

so cloudy bricks walk solitary lanes barely bricky
where blood is a natürlich barrier burst scarlet but

the window fogs whitely to entrance a silly cyclopic
under the moss paths laying a greeny landscape bald-

and when the fogged window into crispy azure clears,

suddenly you're speechless.