It lingers there, my heart on the pedestal, a darkly pomegranate. A parade of watering cans to water my brittle thoughts. I see this utopian nightmare coming to consume me as I lie vulnerable on a tin tower. They are peering because they want to eat my heart like it wasn't a pomegranate. 
There is so much to harvest in this garden of my unfounded dreams -a fruit, a flower, an egg, a dragon, a monster, a bird, a butterfly, swarming around me, as I breathe electricity into the air, knowing well that they cant come where the air is electrified.
I am mesmerised and doomed to rot here, I am meek and I cant stop beholding . 
Suddenly I am the butterfly by the flower shovelling pollen off the eyes on my wings. Now I'm a monster with an insatiable appetite for my own heart, I am the fungus in the garden and the bird with glazed feathers white. I am the dragon chasing blue and the cosmic clam. I am the parade of watercans. I used to be a pomegranate, but now Im everything but. I am a garden of phantasmic fruit.