Criticism flows in from all directions,
but is directionless.
The swarm moves like
a nitrogen bubble waiting to be popped
(tailing the pressure gradient
created by the presence of a will)
So that the collective conscious
can let out a sigh of relief
At the creaking sound of bones being broken
In the most illusory fashion possible.
But where there should be broken bones
We see fully formed skeletons sliding
across the ground, following a dead man
being stripped of his skins and his flesh
noiselessly, so that he might enjoy
the moment of his death
the hour of his awakening
when his eyes shall close
and his mind shall escape
transforming into the bubble popping pin
piercing the fictional film, the camera lens
shatters and the lights go out
CUT!
the wall cracks, reality seeps in
dissolving these nightmarish constructs
and everything is clear and dark as the ocean
and A finally equals B
the end, as prophesied
is perfect homogeneity.
nytkbk 