the hour of barking madness, long ere the coming of the dawn to sleep now would be folly oh but to await the sunrise… this floating space and time of going nowhere fast

the mind disposes of thoughts and ideas dreams and memories forking, twisted paths turning inward upon themselves like Ouroborous eating his own tail there are no answers except for the one we already know the rest of it is just filling in the blanks

the city that is no city that is a place I may only visit in the darkness with my eyes shut

we take the train into the city center though of course forgetting that there is no center only the periphery is real and we spin about on Joseph's constructed merry-go-round seeking that ivory tower the phallus stretching up into the sky that God tore down, scattering us to the four winds

and all we're left with is some psycho-babble some half remembered doggerel about penises and tongues and the unforgivable hubris of trying to reach heaven

I dream of voices in the Oort cloud stirring and I wonder about all the things in this universe that remains unseen all the things that are seen, but we do not understand living on this tiny rock spinning around a little poof of starlight that could wink out in an eyeblink as far as the universe was concerned

we are, ultimately, little children playing at high drama mutilating and killing each other for some paltry trinkets trying to ignore the long, lonely darkness staring at us through the night sky