Whizzing sounds of distant traffic, electrical currents guided through mechanical parts well oiled with crimson,
words from The Void screaming throughout; from buoyant lead, iron fists, and crinkled greenery. Blocking paths long since forgotten and ushering forth towards roads with predictable outcomes.
Say “No Thank You”
Allow the unknown to fill every orifice of your lungs.
Closed eyes see no darkness.
There is a wormhole filled with every color on the known spectrum and fifty-thousand shades that the oxford dictionary has no definition of and human eyes have trouble accepting.
Nebulae and planetary bodies with orbiting suspensions of ice racing by in a blur.
Heat waves of passing stars tickle the bloodstream and flutter through veins turning the crimson into water and then into wine.
Punch-drunk fairies dizzily prancing through cerebral ruins, upchucking on the dulled grey matter,
pompous verbal units as stark and stale as century old fossilized excrement; land solid and explode in cataclysmic screams of primal rage seconds after impact.
All feelings of anguish and pain gone away.
In this Form, at this given moment, time increases increments that should be subject to extreme scrutiny for in this moment,
no seconds pass and no clocks tick and no feet march en tandem with the beat of any kind of drum sheathed with any kind of skin.
The maximum of charge allowed in in these parts as the number does not increase as the wormhole continues
though it is uncertain if it is suspended in a time lapse, or if that is indeed what is happening at all.
Any increasing number would be the only proof that time is continuing to move along as the astral stuff is, zooming by in the peripheral,
but the astral stuff moves, the percentage does not.
The speed of travel begins to slow and every cell in my body freezes like the milliseconds before a suspension-drop roller coaster’s declension
and I feel the same weightlessness as everything stops on a dime.