She paints herself with ink. Up her arms and on the back of her legs. Limbs. Ripped limbs from their sockets. She listens to loud noises that seem to make melody and waves her arms above her head with her torso moving back and forth, forth and back, sharp and quick movements that she compulsively chooses to do. The coral island is the place that we all shall rest, I’ll kiss you once for love and kiss you twice for days. I’ll hold you close for comfort. Now cut a hole in it with your penknife, and clap it to your mouth, old fellow said jack. She reaches up and grasps the book in front of her, its not the one that she looks for, but it is one that will do. Goldilocks and the three bears. There are more than three bears, there were about sixteen, or perhaps more when you venture deeper into the woods. The pharmacodynamics does not make sense. For if one plus one equals two, then how have we ended up with eight. She closes her eyes and his tentacles wrap around her tightly, slowly they wrap around her neck and before she knows it she falls into deep slumber. No. No. No. I will be there as fast as I can he replies and she looks down on to the ground afore her. She stumbles and he is not there to catch her, her spirit rises and pulls her back. Light fills the air around her and the sun shines down on rainbows from prisms. Let us lay here. Let us lay here. Let us pray here. He awaits her on the bench made of tree and the metal touches his bare skin and brings bumps on the back of his neck. Let us lay here. Let us lay here. Let us stay here and lay among the lemons. Orange, red, green, blue, white, pink, she picks a flower and wraps it around her finger. Her eye loses a globule of water and she places her finger to her face. The water wraps itself around the flower on her digit and encases it there forever. Setting hard like an icicle, never to melt. Why is it that she had it and perhaps I do not. Why do I have what I have and perhaps she does not. She types the words and the letters on the machine that makes patterns afore her eyes, he comes over and reads upon her shoulder. Perched like a small bluebird. There are messages in there to decipher, like a cryptic code of transcription. There are triangles, squares, circles, a circle cannot fit into a square and an elephant cannot fit into a cat. Triangles of pyramids and optical illusions, they are all optical illusions. Ten months and counting. And then I will see the shape that is behind that pattern. Close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close your eyes and exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Feel. Touch. Caress.