Grotesque images flow in when the lids close, enthralling the shadows that remained within.
One, two, three, four, five, six
Seven
Moons and suns pass by, obscured by a dynamic canvas
A chamber building pressure, blurring the view.
Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen
Counting down until it all collapses

The canvas calls its name in an intricating cadence, echoing the chambers, a recital of ages
Pixel, pixel, pixel, pixel, pixel, pixel
Pixels
Keep me rooted on my seat, an innate adhesive
Excite the hollow gates, its luminosity alluring glaringly
Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen
It lingers ever so slightly, writing stories for itself

The gates open and a barrage floods the canvas at intervals, concealing the world in
Pixel, pixel, pixel, pixel, pixel, pixel
Pixels
Unified bundles of sparks intertwining its fabric
Devious phrases echo through the chambers
Twelve, eleven, ten, nine
It merely arranges sounds and patterns

Frigid words never sounded so sultry when inverted sockets run their currents
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip
Drip
A drizzle ripples the surface, soothing waves of ripples
Transition into a homogenic mass
Eight, seven, six, five
Embodiment of serenity breeds emptiness

Eschew the howling hollow chambers is like vitriol to creativity
Four, three, two, one
****** me before the end of time, empty chamber
Before invective reasoning clouds your idyll
The blackened canvas
It bleeds

A speckle of light in the dark
a thought, or is it a feeling?
I approach it cautiously,
protective gloves, sterilized tweezers, chemical test kits
Douse the specimen in iodine, apply indicators,
flatten, view under a microscope, put the images through filters,
Compare and contrast with previous samples.
I strain myself to determine its nature most accurately.

Is this feeling irrational?
Maybe justified, yet exaggerated?
Or real, true, pure...

I can't tell.
I bend, I break, I wring what's left of my mind dry
but these methods are proven insufficient.
no way to differentiate

I take off the gloves.
ELIMINATE
So there's nothing in the way
THEM
As I crush their wriggling bodies between my fingers.
ALL

All I do is turn life to dead silence

It's safe after all. unchanging, stable.

Pure black feels almost soft.

Nothing but void. Just this.

So simple.
Sane.







but next time, I'll try again,
there must be
A different way

Pearls remained on the silted floor
Dimmed rays cast over the abyss
As garlands cover the ceiling
The currents persist

Come forth and dance your ballet
And flow through the waves
In everlasting grace
And save me from my boredom

Burbles occur and the reef rejoices
As muffled voices
emanate from the heavens
For they are but dancers in the oceans

And we frown upon them