Gray water reflects agony smoke drowning out the sky. Red sparks from the iris drip off the horizons blind eyes. Respiration from roots, ingrown from dead energy, chattered corruption hiding the outcries. Energy from this arrival of respiration. Twisted, splintered rooftops constantly convulsing as the mass of mankind crosses the molded over doorway. Ceramic images depart from the air into the Turmol Machine. Holographic mankind gets compacted into a single line. Inverse canvas roughens the eclipse. Hammers swing chaotically ahead of vile passages, warped in mildew. It expresses each continuous level of complexity in this psychological, psychotic, metaphysical, sick, incurable infection of our biography of fuck ups. As we fall deeper into the abyss of the Turmoil Machine. Ceramic images depart from the air. Red sparks from the iris drip off the horizons blind eyes. Inverse canvas roughens the eclipse. Energy from this arrival of respiration. Descending up hill. Theory of everything translating nothing. Concience guessing becomes different than before. Force accelerates all sanity to fold. Natural nexus of the universe submerged into illuminated infinity.
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