You exist
in
counterpoint to spacetime, extending
in every dimension through memory
and imagination towards infinite, possible
futures. No need
to rush, there's only us
and a roaring void, bearing down
from everywhere at once. At
the moment time's nicked
by the scythe's tip, I know
you'll only yank my precious neck
out of the way of the sweeping blade,
and probably hard enough to break it
- so go easy, babe. Nobody said
we had to make the impossible look
fun. Just so's
it runs on time,
the game's ruled fair,
you can hand me the baton,
shoot me with the starting gun
and catch me later, 'round the other side
of the looped track we're so endlessly
experimenting upon.
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