Who takes a shadow?

Crush  
my head  
space with waves,  
over  
the bounding mountains  
and the plains  
 
where  
dreams  
exist  
and float under a fertile,  
crimson light.  
Crush my head  
space with those  
devouring  
clouds seeking  
vision.  
The watered down photographs  
that were smudged with  
white  
chalk.  
At least  
that's what the dealer  
mentioned.  
Where are the neurons  
free?  
Through the fables  
where words  
were no more than fill-ins between quotation marks or  
perhaps  
taped monologues echoing across the blue,  
skipping with time?  
Crush my head  
space  
until all that  
lives is the  
blackness  
and there's no progression  
for the crazed  
that choose,  
unwisely,  
their paths. Life wilts within the soul.  
 
Crush  
my head  
space with waves,  
over  
the bounding mountains  
and the plains.