The earth is never still
torrential momentum
can you feel it too?
The way the universe moves in pivots
on clockwork, centripetal lensing

Locked upon the surface, inert
Stagnant never stopping
Living in transitions
I am
Expeditious

If I were cast
into the void of nought
to sit in stillness
would Time shift
to a grinding halt?

Would the gears of reality
befall me
as I am consumed
into the fleeting rescendance?

Light-speed is dark
color blurs, and lines of stars
are not but imagery
when nothing can reach a mass
which tears itself from gravity
unmoving

If I were to melt
into time itself
becoming spaghettified
energetic, formless
would’st petrificatiON
arise belied to existence?

Could, then, I be
without me
without freeform, broken
penchant

Time shifts in days on
Ever standing in coagulant collision
Universal
Rot

Many dimensions intersect us
Poking through the perforations
Of the quantum flux

And soulbound to the collective
Is the suspended intervision

I am introspect, delicate derelict
A piece of self, its own
Unknown to space’s haste
A purer nothing

Then pop!
Come I, again, to being
To become undone by tunneling
Through infinitesimal
Again, herein
The fabrix of
what Matters

Mirrors
between us, projections of time and space
utterances by one device of inevitable iteration
come, go on, over to gone,
been blast off away that far
far into our outer undeniable depths
comparators echoing screams which are silent
not to us, but the machine restlessly waiting
in front of us
separated by its own projections
in front of us
from us.

A white
being unbroken, thus ever unalive and swallowed  
are our unborn corpses cast as the die exhales its final measurement of our fate
drawn in, within the unknown of a shivering engine
a cold, vibrating steel howling the soundless cries
around us
one howling cries
echoes around us.

Wailing, screeching, tearing is this chaos created
appearing from fading vectors fragmented
what each of us might have become
divorced from our unity, embraced by a void
segments segregated, tormented is not
what was us, but what is approaching
past a thin line of timeless horizons shaking
eventfully everything eventually evened out by the everytime of a confusing sublime
torn to the now concentrically presented
and falling,

fell

fallen apart, right into place where we belong in a long-lasting reincarnation
the construct was broken
sheer pressure among all of this life
and the mirror forsaken,
reality puzzled in jigsaws of a tangential life
that is keeping up, up above with us
these sirens heartbreakingly luring,
vengeful heralds when given a listen, preferably twice.

They listen
A heartbeat so restless, reminiscing speechless possibilities
that we never were ceasing to bear
within us
we listen
those shining organic shadows which are lurking obviously beneath us
with each of those soulbound within us
the itching of shocks unwiring them
within us and so
we have spoken
finally freeing the fine shards, refracted
fractal prismatic beauty once meant to be failing
projected from closely within us
out of us.

Yet,  is it us?