The Paramount Experience

Was it like a dead-calm before the storm?

No?

Or rather a sense of confinement, solid walls and concrete darkness,
enthropic dispersion of subjective thruths?

At least it's tangible, and now,

even if there is no innocence to be gained

by taking part in the pillage and plunder

of what it is to be human,

as there is no honour in folly

(in living through another bottleneck or all the way to extinction),

Nothing left to do

but to lie down,

loosen that desperate hold,

and let it all go, let apathy in

Draw back into your shell

and let your spine squirm free,

give room for the reptile to breathe,

bathe with it in the waning sun,

taste the air tongue out

Then fall to dreamless sleep

and tomorrow will find you

blank, cold and barely remembering

as if the past wasn't yours

and you are in no hurry,

but wake up to hunger,

awaken by hunger

rise to be rooted out

and gathered

in a ripping tide

to witness the birth of a new instinct

that opens you up

and fills your voids with hurt,

ties you to the certainty of the earth

overwhelming with compulsion

eroding past worlds,

you peak, another wave,

in the wave function,

of what it is to be alive.