Uos

I say no thing but Light trips over sound, so then, falling is a state of mind--only, it's clumsy with forget and heavy with now. To you heaven is a natural delicacy, a reward for polishing silver and keeping your elbows down low, but we all know it is really cloned from cosmic godlust. So, reply with honeycomb watch towers stretching up&up, enshrined with mantras sung in cadence for privatized salvation--generations file in while eternities keep fading. 

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I hear whispers at night, lining my lids mere moments before I fall through the backdoor of my head and into the void; the beginning of time smells of bad jokes; ozone, no punchline in sight, just a record that eerily plays in reverse, underwater for a curious audience of one. There is, however, a momentary spark ever present (check the seams!), engraved in the film of zero dimension, where implicit order is intricate&unraveled in one tug of endstring.