Cracked, an endless stretch of void-black floor

And a head-bumping ceiling.

Screams echoing, resonations drowned out by the buzz of a hundred thousand more overlapping;

Impossible to see or touch, terrifyingly familiar to feel.

Flashing neural impulses, facsimiles of sound and sensation

Lighting up the horizontal chasm into never-end live dead.

When I scream loud enough it turns into my brother.

Every happy hippy becomes a satanist in the annals of laughable chronicling.

Overuse of misguided tactics;

Incestually amplified familial anger, familiar rage,

Rattling of laundry machines and switched-off lights.

Tattletale wonderment at the unsimple things in life.

Orwellian condemnation for the glaringly obvious, obscured

By the haze of infantile naivete and gross misconceptions.

Gathering threads of past-glow in your hands and retwisting,

Erasing unwanted shapes,

The signature of an invader.

Fingers-lied fallibility, amber melting and flowing to contort the ant;

Impossible to remember and thus impossible to know:

Which realities are false, fed by a flaw in a genius?

Words warped to the despair of the eidetic few.

Feuds over misinterpretations of verbalizations;

Each to their own.

Nothing rings true inside the seven-eviled box.

Crack the eggs and the secrets only die, like unborn chicks strewn in times of disaster.

Marginalized vocalizations, the rhythm of which

Bends throughout intangible space,

Travelling weaker with time,

Inhabiting parental folly.