light then tunnel, then light then tunnel, closer and further to the life of death. what if we're alive? what if we're actually alive? even if they're all dead, all of them but life. Waking up again and before, dreaming into what is as what was - every second, third, fourth, fifth dimensionless, time less, space less, words less than my single eye itself which is raw, blood and pulse, blinking a shutter speed unknown except by you, my only love. down here we are steel screaming, digging through hope, dirt, and changing, changing - does it matter? does it matter at all, since we're worming a hole to keep coming at us more, and discover this first familiar face who is the very end of color, who is the very beginning of thought? fascination. a black hole. fascination. a white light. more. ever more.