Straddling the equation. Theorums. Accelerate the sum. I don't know why I end up with this number. It finds me. No matter how many worlds I put between us.
Broken plates. Bent forks. Stab the air. Dead feasts still so alive in the chamber. Monsters. In their tuxedos. Witches in high heels. It's not a party until someone leaves crying.
Chasing myself out of the tunnel. I know where I've been, but don't know where I was. Chemistry. The barren. The sterile. Surge of oblivion as I commit my body to this flesh. A deep grave. Dug premature.
A cracked teacup. As she pours. Her pinkie on the pot's lid. The hot liquid inside. Just a theory, As stale as the cups from which we drink it. A devil gazing in on a window into heaven. Confused.
As to what the appeal is.
So many dead men with nothing left to do other than blame the machine. For not having the capacity to go back far enough. Too many scientists. trying to explain how far away it is.
Tuesday
1/06/2009 01:24:00 AM
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