I spent 16,000 years in pure whiteness,
And finally found a way,
There’s a hole,
At the end of infinity,
Just big enough to die through,
An entirely different world,
With a color spectrum unseen,
By what seems,
Old eyes,
Geothermic light,
From the cracks of a hydroplane,
Body light as dust,
Mind heavy as lead,
My ideas sink through me,
Into the collection pool,
They now roam,
In the chapel’s coffer,
And our bodies compose,
This ultra-violet lined atmosphere,
I can now walk freely,
Across the vastness of unparalleled scars,
Now static skin,
Contains the marks,
Of a past so long passed,
Old me,
Told me,
What I’ve done,
New me,
Doubts me,
What it has told itself,
I’ve learned of indifference,
And the lies,
Of the word significance,
I have been a resident of nothingness,
And cardboard is it’s sweetest fruit.
Tongue can taste,
The shades of void,
And savor,
What cannot be seen,
By anything,
But time hardened blackness,
Wreathed in green-blue fleshy fire.


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