Inside of a second there is a cave
and if you sit inside of it, you cannot
see the fire of reality burning,
even if the definition is read to you
gently, unless you breath your way
up and out of that crevice,
you will find your self in a
world that is setting you up
as a sacrifice to whatever
you may have done the second
prior as punishment for the
probably seconds after that,
a solipsism of false justice
that will lead you to the
core of a rotten potato,
not sweet, no longer
edible and ready to
become soil for new growth
only after a total decomposition
among its fellow rotten fruits.
Roman Ryan 