I’m not around that much, running exhausted; and lost. If it could be undone, will it have costed?—it’s taught and lost. Blowing away we stray, wilted-insulted; at fault? What if today I stayed in bed, these baubles we’ve brought: At fault. After the bliss has long ended this caution, this fault: Give me a breeze that’s long-winded, accosted.—Adult (arrested). . . .