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.