Two frail circular spheres
With the membrane of a bubble
Hazily drifting above something somewhere
Life on the left
After life on the right
One is full
And the other empty
At the apogee
Of death
Or birth
Or rebirth
And redeath
In order to cease
In order
To stop
You need to be full, sheer and vacant
At the very end
You are condescend
Tangled and about to explode
You cannot contain anything anymore
You are pure yet full of rotten apples
You stink like sweetened milk and pepper
You go up up up
And down down down
Low
And then you are desolated
Full of emptiness
Inscrutable
Full of cavities to be fulfilled
Delusional
You loose all senses
And for a brief but vivace moment
Half of a glimpse
Something opens
And the bubble pees all of its essence
Something sweet
Musky oil
Infiltrating the fine globe
And you are half full
You decide to press the big bright red button
Both bubbles
Strangled
Collide
Eclipse
Open
Fade
Fuse
New
Free
Feral
And then
You simply
Are crushed in between
Two light, half-transparent things
Compressed
And you are a living
Dead
Alive half of the time
You cannot be more dead than you already are
Or more alive than alive
You have brutally cut the connection
The never ending 8
And you a drifting
Away
Far far far away
Into oblivion