Publisher's Synopsis
I have never seen so far into anyone's eyes as I saw into yours that day. Ever green, I had expected to find them. stagnant pools long left to lay, still and tepid. Yet, they were filled to astounding depth with colors I had not hoped to see, and movement that shimmered the deep far beyond my measure, far beyond my reach, lucid as noon shallows, clear as summer seas, verdant in the distance like impossible meadows we never touch, but dream to see. Troubled as they were and unfocused, in them, still and crystalline, reflected me... and my own eyes liquid, reflecting you. There in the mysterious grips of your waste, struggles this wretch where he so longs to be, for I could guess where your focus was lost to endless, vacant leagues, as I stood there beside you that day on the shores of your unfathomable seas. Reduced to nothing, I saw you on the far side, staring back at me. Spoken aloud, poetry is the ultimate masochistic mouthwash. Used regularly, it will sponge your brain and fire your breath. So, crack these covers, sip, swish, and rinse. In time, your silly sense of wellbeing will slip away, and your brain germs will never feel the same way, again.
