Volume Itself
As specious as spectres detect in spaces
As flat as the last of the start of descending,
The speed of exceeding depletes in its paces
The passage of panics detached from the ending.
An intangible mass is attached as adornment
To central encompass of balance unfolding,
So the friction of self-parts enhances the halting
That matches in scaling the scope of discernment.
I'd idly endeavor in inking identity
To borrow the pleasure of lonesome impatience
Of wave-breaks unnascent on shorelines unending
That wilfully fill up to cough out the nothing.
Voiced in the noise of the name of behaviors
Is limit of loving the drifting applause
As anxious as pavement for cracking and crushing
In rush to discover distaste and betrayers.
A clock is a torus of snaking to famine
That pangs to exclaim it's unique simultaneous
But refrains from repeating the deed of the signpost
That fell down before the roadway was paved.