Gore of the outermost limbos traversed,
What shadowy scavengers tried to converse.
I know their dwellings and wakings on earth,
As a neutral beings in a neutral sphere, it is I who disturb.

The whole scene is draped by a dark-reddish glow
From the rippled skyline to the mountains below.
Far deeper the valleys whose outline I know,
For theirs are the pitfalls and windings of woe.
Sleep the conscious man,
Execute your plan!
Forceful thrust, seeds of time must be sown.
Thunder beneath me from hack and from hoes.

Brightness and fire my body reflects.
Setting off charges in a weird chaineffect.
To be on my way, a mad fate to perfect.
Logic’s no resort awake or in bed.
Execute by saying:
We have right of Way.

A blurred eyesight is an insult to my intellect.
Bad karma dead ahead ripe for all to collect.

Pull...pull...pull
through a tight and transparent membrane.
To emerge from the other side with my past self retained
And though fettered in limbo he keeps up all the same,
The workings of a reason in a mad world are insane.

Insane, two selves bent on ushering times in.
My old self riding shotgun death administrating.
What is happening is happening.
Seated with death itself, short of anointing.
The ground creases along a fault.
Right where we just were a flood-basalt.
Forward thrust with a lethal spin.
Let the slaughtering begin.