Erosion - Red Tank!

Am I making «progress» in the abyss?

Is my communion reprehensible?

I’m sprawled out in the desert sands trying to figure out how many grains

correspond to how many fractions of lifetimes and i can’t figure out whether to

shove sand down my throat or to build a sand castle

Paralyzing entropy reads thus:

How did a meaningless protozoa

In a/an (un)conventional crevice of the universe

Eventually evolve into a being with the capacity to fashion an automobile?

To fashion the paradigm that guides its own self-destruction?

We’re reckless anomalistic bastards of the universe, floating, fucking,

self-detonatable, self-reproducing, Kubrickian mannequins

I awake and tell myself to take some sort of action in a direction that means

my mother’s suffering and self-neglect won’t go to waste

I awake and tell myself to take some sort of action in a direction that means

my suffering and self-neglect won’t go to waste

I awake and tell myself to take some sort of action in a direction that means

the world’s suffering and self-neglect won’t go to waste

This is a game of boggle marred by bloody and broken hands, riddled with

self-defeating paradoxes of regret and anguish that necessitates a path of

unending reverberations of despair

But you can still feel an ancient wind run through the Sonoran

And all castles, despite their degree of delusion or beauty harmonize in the

hum of its erosive equilibrium