Payment of the whole world to the whole world, instead
I hibernated at home in bed, refusing to take responsibility
For any sort of truth at all, whether it was the memory of old crimes,
The inner communion with the complex parasitical divinity, my demon,
Or the language that makes it certain that the math corresponds:
Beyond the event horizon the cosmos looks gorgeous, and I
Like any I, like the I itself, which had a first instance as the corruption
Of something else and will have a last instance just as something else
Corrupts it in turn, can no more escape the grim destiny of the singularity
I can no more avoid than I can avoid tomorrow, which can only
Avoid me by eliminating me and everything with me, even tomorrow, even I.
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