The triangles break the spectrum.
Words are confined delusions
as images wreak havoc. Within
endless spaces, point to point
angles damage our perception.
Snatches of speech escape us.
I mean me. Rows and columns of
the conversations that reiterate
through the transparent silence.
Experience develops through
history, as history develops
through time. Played on loop
on a catchy playlist, this will
never fail to escape me.

The  
       delusions
              within
spaces
escape
                me.
                                 The
                        silence
                                       develops
                         history
As
   time
          will
                fail.