Found The Last Day

Found the last day, the last minute in the clock
Found the life in the fast forward final future
Asked why, asked for more
Nothing can be stated so clearly, nothing is such a bore
Hitherto the popular sign has been merge
Let alone stop, pulse, blow
Topology study,
hole in the heart, hole in everything.

Hole in the writing. A hole the size of years,
decades, lifetime left unspoken, unspeculated, unsaid.
Under utilized, undulating, unknown.
The answer to why is love, or fear.
The answer is always love, or fear.
Then again, maybe just fear.
Fear of the black, the "ness" attached to all words,
to everyone's face.
Attached to the black secret pools piloting the pin prick of their eyes.

Mysterious monsters of gesture.
Each face wearing its very personal agenda.
Walls in the maze of mankind. Walls of us.

Forever our greatest puzzle will be ourselves.
I'm no different. I'm not special.
But I'm pilot, I'll fly.

There should be logs for this cabin. Records and notes and descriptions and depositions darkly given in bright storerooms dripping with cliche and sparkling originality.

There be the confessions, left behind in the confessional. And I confess, I have committed no crimes. I'm a broken man without cause, or evidence. I've left no trace. Not even a drop of bearing blood.

Speaking of bears. They're coming for us all. The bears transmit conspiracy through the salmon. And when they're not in range of the secret rivers, they rely upon honey and messenger bees. This is why big agriculture seeks to destroy the wing-ed strip-ed ones. They know what the bears do, what the bears know they do.

They.