Deliverance and paradise
slip through the hole in your head.
Your tranquillity is touching.
You are perfect; -dead.
The outmost cleanliness
unstained by the sin of your soul.
You face seems at rest, unworried,
your skin so fresh and cold.

The pumping rain fades the word,
the winter fades the bullet’s kiss.
A perfect is loud but unheard;
only for me, only I see this.

Snowflakes gather themselves
on your coagulated fluids;
for once they don’t melt;
you’re holy now; a druid.
Again you intertwine with the world,
once again you’re home.
You’re alive, undying, golden, you’re gilded.
You are chrome.

Zero, and the end is near.
You know I will meet you there.
Every number is rotting.
The great Lorentz’ attractor
as well shall end in nothing.

What ran down your face like a UPC
grew umbra and dark in the wind.
Only this way can you be complete;
red down your face in thicks and thins.
I see the galaxy, the universe unfold;
confessions from a god’s death bed.
Red dwarves and white blood cells grow cold
oozing from the red black hole in your head.

And the warm wet circle ends in nothing,
I will meet you there.
The only number that isn’t rotting;
Zero, the ending is near.

Zero, the ending is near,
I will meet you there.
It ends; -nothing.
–Nothing, still rotting.

Zero


Zero (the ending is near)


Zero


(Now)