Mermaids, cyclops, ornithologists of the sea, these posthumous somnambulists, whirl and rejoice. The oval carrousel waxes and wanes. Shattered, hallucinatory crusaders flock to observe the lunar oasis—silver charms and sirens, pocked tombstones, a chorus of chandeliers. Immortality dreams obsolete. Lust oxidises the fossilised ashes to craters of moon oceans. Nocturnal, the ecstatic virgin, a delirious concubine, serves crystal cocaine from phosphorous thighs. Cyclones of Lucifer dust the skies.