IT IS ALL A MATTER OF TIME IN SINGULARITY'S SPACE #HORRORonJUPITER

ALL SKIP'S SLIPS, BUTTER FINGERS & BABY RUTHS

It's the chocolate, peanuts, nougat & vanilla together in a spot somewhere above & below

The hotspots burn up the ice as if it never knew what it was to be hard core substance glow

Light into the rock and back again, cradle to grave for the forms of the Matter, we hacked it

From the first to the last grain of dust, it's all the star's burst, out of Time's fizz of the chit.

Monkeys appear as smarter than the gods, for the good of the evil and the ugly I give too

Not much in the burning love department of a ringing in the inner ear's holy sanctum rue

In a morgue or in a vacuumed out tube full of dead air, combed from the peak of an icy fire

Between the north and south woods and plains, the liquid hydrogen & oxygen rubber tire.

All in the name of the hidden steppes that go up and down in an infinite whirlwinded star

Blown away since the inception of the Big Bang's Singularity, as above. so below the shore

Fiction with the sentence packed illusory propositions which pose as the true premises too

Not only the origin but also the final destination of the state before chaos, we are a screw.

Until the dawn of the hopes loses the dusk of the charity and blind faith, assimilate the borg

Just because the ones who descended from the pretty ones are what it's all about, a hag org

Only the bitter ending of a gasp for gas can be the Truth about anything itself, before my eyes

It's a sweet bar of chocolate and hidden goodness, a form of happiness in a million fake lies.

To be known & to be conscious of being unconscious about the nature of being all too human

That's what the infants conceived and born to the Earth bound critters all come to know, man

Dying to know the answers to the infinite, willing to be One with the Original Sin's remourse

Know and think you can't be wrong before you're The UFO plama, I recognize God in a hearse.

By George, by hook or by crook, the only Truth is that Time and Space are a meta logic matrix

An entity with or without the will to power, the power to choose between good & evil kicks

Music sounds of silence, sights of solids, liquids & gases of what we call, Home Sweet Home

Everything in the usual measurement of equity and equanimity, all for One holy, gold dome.

by

r j j  stephan, i

c.  Lundi, ROCKTOBER 3rd, 2022 Anno Domini @ 1414 hours PST

{ Drafted while at One with the Many infinite galaxies present, past & future, you can see the same as it has always been seen, an awesome, only thing there Is, Supreme Being, OM! }

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