being in forward progression, however negative, still onward.
history of the future is bleak. my science measures truth of time.
regret is not a word, but illusion of demise.
delivery of life, mirrored cue cards of pretend
present unlike a dream with it's forgiving wakeful end.
flesh i've got, as an animal unafraid, though alone.
yet ever is bliss, unto the availability of itself.
oh joy, oh belief. good times and felt grief.
tangible timing, exact in it's right
to drift by us as organic data.
observant, though matter won't collapse.
adieu, you sweet familiar splashes of love.
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