The cleaving that can’t decide whether to split apart or cement together…
The wall of sound that can’t decide whether to create or destroy…
The vast expanse of emptiness that acts like vacuum and diamond-rendering pressure at once…
A force of force, turned in and on itself…
Pushing from without, pushing from within… and the end result, far from balance, is just more unbearable pressure…
Body and brain, both basically hollow, the way we carve out our live without regard to what we’re tearing out of ourselves in service of what we think we want to add…
How much of ourselves do we throw away like that?
The moment of destruction is finitely beautiful – it almost makes the aftermath worth it. This world favors those who dare to prolong, or even find, such moments.
I dwell in waves of silent despair
Reborn in matter and time, a starless universe
Onward, into eternity
A nocturnal light will set my spirit free…
