This story poem can be summarised as existentialism and dread upon the realisation that it’s probably best to just not ever pass on ones genes if they wish no harm to come the next generation due to seeing the harsh reality of the state of the world in todays age. Told from the perspective of
the brain is a quantum tunnelacting as a needle eyephotons entering a shallow funnelallowing either side to spy how it does not explodei do not know… why?why wont it go down that road?why does it not just combust?0…… ……1the sun shines its raysand the brain sheds its rustthe moon becomes a mazeand the rest is

Whos it gonna be? Good… god. For whoever you might be, whether a woman or a man or quite possibly a tree…

the question begins –do you do it yourself,or let someone else do it for you?…are you ready?…because when the water starts floodingwill you be able tostay afloat on your high horseor would you start sinking down…you said you can lead a horse to waterand you led it to waterbut the horse has just gone and
i adore you for everything you arenothing comes close and no one is on paralthough i have my doubtsand i sometimes feel my hope falls somberand our fated red string is too far strechedbut then i remember that into the tree of lifeour initials were once etchedbefore time and before spacethere is a placefor usand

