forward, to the end times

fax me a copy
down in the spiral
over in the hole, there
back into the places where
the shadows are shadows
where the light falls dimly

harsh taste inside
out the part in the short shot
surely there must be a remembrance
to a fraction of time
when things made sense

only there is a part of the heart that dies
when thought progress to the unreal
truths molded into lies
in the machines
from the minds of
the unclean
from the skulls of
the unseen

how many more times must
words rhyme to make things flow
evenly over the paper mill turnstiles
short instructions on how to
all of it is pointless subjectivity anyways

Horus blew his nose on the sands of Egypt
laughing and coughing speckled flesh
pass thoughts arranged themselves in order
to slow down the conscious mind

here we go down the spiral of limited thinking
of the lost thought interlude
passing over and under and through and threw walls
made of our own inhibitions
conditioned to believe in things that are not really there
anyways

point and stow away the remorse you feel in your eyes
glancing waves wash upon the steel fractures of the guilt
you hide inside yourself

wishing for a clear view and getting cloudy all the more
time lapses like the fog rolls back into the sea
you find yourself a grave and sleep
before you know it