As i stumble around the back end alleyways of our metropolitans more grimier side,
soon ending up on Elizabeths main;
my cranium continues to throb from subsequent pain, probably from its attempts at repairing itself...and failing.
With patchy memories which could embroid itself upon a quilt in congruous order,
Kneeling against the cornerstone at Unions Lane,
to pick the dozens of strings of yarn that had stuck to the velcro encasings of my trouser pockets,
Wondering how i ended up nestled against a dumpster with a small piece of asphalt lodged within my right temple, i still didn’t know...
sort of like Frankenstein;
however it was bolts embedded in his neck,
and they helped the creature in becoming vibrant,
whilst my rendition proved to stagnate all thought herein.
I got groggy,
as i begun to seek a shaman; preferably one with an outstanding track record in medicine,
my legs let through,
and there i was; lying on the pedestrian walkway as a