A siren agonistes - oh, don't insult me!

How strange, how wonderful it is.
(We drink of the river.)
It takes the me away and gives me the stuff of this, our earthly life.
How humbling it is.
The whole castle is plumbed with it.
In that special place Viola made we swim in it.
(It's just like a place in the curly-haired Doctor Who's tardis!)
Those girls on the island have to swim across to the marble steps.
Then up to the shore.
Through their house if their business is not fit for Francis.
Then, across the moat.
There's a short cut straight through Francis's picture.
Visitors must sign the open book policy.
Francis becomes less like a person and more like a policy sometimes.
Mirrors show Viola's face, but her lips only smile like Mona Lisa.
There are structures collapsing, reforming, all around me.
I see it from the corners of my eyes.
I see the edges of 'the machine'.
I see stories in my feet.
They assert themselves briefly silver and shimmering green.
Webbing grows between my toes.
As a strand of seagrass is dislodged from another place (my home).
I feel it (my home) between my teeth.
There's a fish scale stuck between a pair of milk-grown.
I feel it. I see it, all around me.