Painless headbutt Of flowers A whirl within And I feel the claws That never touched me More than the beat Of the cat and the stick Of the drum or the whale A leviathan on the edge Of oblivion that comes after Killing fairy tales killing The fairies, for what? No withered witches only A heron looks at the cat that looks at the flower-cloud. It is a silent dance An echo of the warm Murmur of life in me That never stops you From coming after me In my mind, our sunrise now But the choice is oblivion And I do not care anymore About that look in your face Cat About that need in your bells Stick Clouds go by blue Skies