Spiraling through the non-sequester
wondering how random this maze
gets, maybe the brandish stone.
Has only diamonds to atone.
Idyllic hands, and idyllic minds.
There must be some logic to your chaos...
There must be some humanity to your machine...
Never has man ever aged, not even a day.
Never to the people raged, not even a place.
Hydraulics seem to have serpents that swim.
This empty mass of humanity, gathering like
swarms, in the grandeur of a slope, collapse.
We move like a blood stream machine.
Insidious, this bizarre abstract unity.