A subtle chain of countless rings, the next unto the farthest brings.
The eye sees omens where it goes, and reads all languages; the rose
And striving to be a man, the worm, mounts through all the spires of form.

My body lies somewhere on land, sleeping through reality, distracted by it's own pleasent traps. It is simply succumbing to itself. Only my eyes, deattached without form, can see the cryptic parade happening all around. Infinite things are colliding tonight, the first dance in a ritual mutiny against the modern world.

Spoiled surpluses of meat and alloi propell onto dim lit back roads, derailing the passageways of newly weds and assasins. Animals displaced into new territories are unable to satisfy their specific needs. I hear the drastic debris of some phantom appliance vandalizing the hearth of an old control tower. Sparks of dying thought shatter the winds and send commerce into hiding alongside scurrying spiders and fallen angels. The debris of rotting libraries and priceless jewelry dance into a mist which obscures the cliff's end they will soon meet. Photogenic boy geniuses decompose beside me simply for the sake of disaster. The sonic pus of life's terrestrial acne was my lullabye. I have divided, form and function divorced as though their previous union was nothing more than a sustained paradox. As i drift upon boundless tentacles of physic intention, a kaleidoscope of voices mug my pathway. The only respite from the crumbled billboard of synchronized promises dangles upon their cores, simple syllables directing my signal to the last haven.
The ocean.

Look at steve, just look at him.

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