The structure that we find ourselves in. So ironically impenetrable. Layers upon waves upon rows. The familiar face of an alien. Invading your nightmares. Eyes and shapes and colors. That distort and distinguish. Comfort from utter pain.
I've seen the models. I've studied their directions. And structured those things in ways that would become this. Every moment the DNA for tomorrow's deconstruction. Like moving piles of sand. Impossible to mold and percentages lost.
Staring at the lines. Swelling throbbing saying something. Sharpening and falling completely off the map. Dampening expectations. Siphoning the reasoning off. Interpreting and molding them to fit that day's dawn. Draw the shades and retire.
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