Gravity glues the diffused ooze of the universe as it moves
Over time, through space in four states fused in
Place suffused with heat, energy to move each piece through
Space, combine and break, bond or contuse the shape
Keep an eye on where it rotates through night and day
On a ball of magma mineral water and clay where we
Stay and cycle atmosphere between ourselves and plants and steer
Our plans to clear a path between the fear of death and rant about
Each other to each other, making children with our lovers
Smothering one another ‘cause we’re stuck beside our brothers and
Sisters, blister kissers’ killers’ grifters, missus, misters
Workers, wishers, Whistful kids that get called hipsters
The blessed will find their bliss the rest will die with less
The best kill a prejudice the more invested will progress
The weight is lifted that gets confessed
The world’s address, a sad pun that reflects a sadder mess

Whatever happens is a function of consciousness
What you feel at night is death
Whatever happens is a function of consciousness
What you feel at night is death
If you love life less and less
Stop and focus on your breath
If you love life less and less
Stop and focus on your breath

The vertices outline planes shaped to contain space
Changing shape as time divides the animation’s grain size
Defining the resolution of the mind body and grind
The width of a split thought sits between before and after
Confined, I’m concerned with how it defines the latter combined with before the Matter shatters and morphs to corporeal form to fit
The force of effect’s origin, the core of it is orbited by
Possible spatial configurations waiting to be
Made manifest by those above cause and effect the
gods and Prophets effect change unchecked by the
chain’s shape as it Connects to the stone-set vane of the
Past That remains fast back to the first blast,
before that Is the unimaginable lack, the
same stuff that fills the cracks between division of fact or
fiction, sensitive dependence on initial conditions
Is the human condition, get it in your cognition

Whatever happens is a function of consciousness
What you feel at night is death
Whatever happens is a function of consciousness
What you feel at night is death
If you love life less and less
Stop and focus on your breath
If you love life less and less
Stop and focus on your breath

If ghosts exist they’re in the face of battered women and
The fists of evil men and their herditary givens
Our lives are written, letters we’ll never read
Sent between the gods of probability to seed the serpent
plight of earthlin’; cursed to curve inward
Within words in many versions asleep beneath
The black ghost of infinity spillin’ between the foes of a filigree
The billion literal fission machines making significance split at the seams
Lost at the bottom of its wave trough, before it fades to
shade, detained Caught between the skull and brain, sights off,
lost in rain drops cooperating With the size of things,
surprised to bring your eye to the sky at night and think
The raw feeling between the beginning and end of a blink,
synch up, the crux of things extends past the missing link
An unintact adjective defined as a state of
collaborative mind mapped To the fine lines of fate

Whatever happens is a function of consciousness
What you feel at night is death
Whatever happens is a function of consciousness
What you feel at night is death
If you love life less and less
Stop and focus on your breath
If you love life less and less
Stop and focus on your breath