Going back forth at the indelible pace of erasure, stifled and filed human staple
Into everything at once, now
Well all chime in like metronomes, fluent in scale, submerged in mercurochrome, dribbling air
Blind deafen deaden, a new retreat syndrome, that acknowledges compression, with a nod its head
Just the same
Statistical chains are fitted with teeth, in a harping audit that never will end
Of life's net worth.
Ambient claustrophobia hangs like a drop of ink in the air beneath dead halogens
Bound to expire.