Forget The Rest.
Here.
Now.
Not Decades Back,
Picking Rocks From Woodwaste On Conveyor Belts.
Literally picking fucking stones.
William is dust.
Bradburne looms darkly.
My Crooked Yellow Grins,
Lighting Up The Void.
Same Entropy I bid goodnight,
for ever
Repetition In Milliseconds:
Present.
A Gift.
My Crooked Yellow Grins, Lighting Up The Void.
