There is no present
your hands your thoughts
you looting
every speck of the experience-world
scrambling for a synthetic time
where there is dynamic stagnation
that you would call
an I
an I
is but an habit
a residual pastime,
look at the following
moment
and the following
moment
there are mirrors of reflection
(where you think you exist because you thought it)
there are gates for use
(where you think that you are using objects, your screen, your money)
there are lips of desire
there are an infinite amount of timeline
where you look at the possible outcomes
of this moment
but a gigantic and productive void
is actually stealing every minute, every hour
triumphantly getting you
so why should'nt we embrace the craze
get the whole Dyonisus deal
and chog off the moment
following the line
the last line of feeling
as an absolute
as the revelation
of some immanent truth
already dead, already ghost
in the landscape of your inner gaze
