The lungs take their final breath;
The brain starts to die, one, twelve cells a time,
Until the eventuality simultaneously happens.
The light becomes dark and the dark becomes matter. There exists nothing, but something attune. You cannot reap it or hold it mid June.
The warp isn’t real and the sticker isn’t a dune. They’ll tell you nothing but in there is something. That’s what life is before the birth.
When you open your eyes again and see what you once were— you remember what is relevant, not what gives you the answers.
Life is not a...