The vast spaces of our minds are not ours, are.
The delivered and stopped are others. No shit .
Can we think and conceive of our unimportance, halted? Our impotence?
There should be no doubt that our four dimensions are separated from reality.
What lives out here?
They are thinking?
The lads have the metronome sussed.
No death jousted struggle.
This is a nam shub, so no names are welcomed.