What Pressure

Everything passing thru the

eye, burning bright like distant

Sun captured, exploding as

fateful end, Thought beginning.

Chalk white of bone

encapsulating

worth of man

juxtaposed against

indifference: earthly

body turning over, tightening

its structure, laying

waste to all who gasp

into being. No

sympathy for

empty mouths when stretching

pupil envelops,

permeates the nothing

that was.

Slow separation eating

Wrinkled brow.

What pressure! Reason

In so much language. Attempts to

Still rapid light

in its procession.

No such luck.

Everything passing

Thru

I.