Lux
forty years late for death
uprisings toppled civilizations without hurting my eyes
at the apex of the vortex and inside this antechamber and shelter
the euclidean dome engine where i move the galaxy
I sweep the creation with the neural scanner
around here I became brutish and for each failure
I adapted the respective lie
I've been layering things for a long time
solid blocks of ghostly mist
but complacent with the physiology of what is organic
I know it's time to disappear into the pale palace of time
the vacuum unfolds like a three-dimensional ball of wool
each house of heat rises and blasts the stars
the dark and infinite field of the universe spews flames
quasar beams build the checkered web
where I'll be stuck while I die.
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