that dead crystal thing
is edged with hate
towards the gray massy disorder
surrounding my dead crystal thing
buoying it
and expressing a wide, endless longing
for stable redundancy

silence now

and now I hear the ultraviolet tune
rushing forward relentless
leaping into the dead crystal thing
penetrating its tortuous corridors
spreading the cold endless mirroring

spots on a blank page

a script ornate

meaningless music