But Receiver wasn't afraid. He had the threads and the dragon teeth, and there was no more to be done. He would live forever if he dared nothing, due to the magic of the golden mane of the Deathmender, but because of this he didn't care when he would die, since only an need and adventure such as this made life worth while for one who could live forever.

Deep in youth, the heart smiles
and talks to strangers,
passersby promising the sun.
The heart so focused, freezes,
so early wise.

Now fear and desire
fight together for the first word
as we scuttle by other lives.

Where, beyond the gobbling fright,
gathering power backward,
is the towering monster,
though hormone hidden, brain breaching,
though tangled in scripted sensate insanity,
its roots of the mass, and society's wishes,
forcing us to cannibal our own kindness,
wangling defeat from each wish?

Smiles carress our contacts,
concussions for even wary brains
backfired
when unharnessed fear trampled in
and rode our love bareback
through thickets of dreams
made nightmare in the moon
by their black riders
their hoofbeats unsyncopated
with our bloodbeat wishes,
themselves inherited wounds
when injured smiles slashed,
when love stilled not
and the mind ran riot.