Hierarchies touch you momentarily
and you are broken,
chunked away, bricked off, and compartmentalized.
Clipped into a pixel
only serving as a mirror to our
acquaintances.
The fibrous and slivery
membrane that separates
yin's ink from the
virgin waters of yang's abyss.
I hear a siren . . .
singing the song of our numbness
and a verse of our long visions
I see a black hole
with the deepest scope
of tunneled vision
while my peripherals
remain a blurry kaleidoscope
of geometric vibrance, beauty, and death.
Bobbin heads and mushy minds
sloshing round in infinitely strange loops
hamsters on a torus tube
Until the sickening dizziness
converges upon you and
you vertigo your soul right into a parallel universe.
Back and forth between multi-parallels
Riding on the wavelengths
of An Enormous Om
