Voice 1:
On the beach, I thought it wise to SIFT through the sand that was really glass, but in the STILL of space, I suppose I never really thought it THROUGH. After HOURS OF dust had gathered on the sun, I chanted along with the fish. The bell rose up from the silvery sea, and ITS surface glinted in the PLASMA that undulated beneath it. BIDING my TIME, I paced across the waves, thinking royal thoughts UNTIL THE tears welled up in all of my eyes. All of the CLOCKS in the universe hit the stroke of eleven, and the chiming caused the COLLAPSE of kingdoms. I wept upon the bell, and my tears made MUSIC that danced across the sea. It SHATTERED MY heart to hear that sound, and the SPINE of the world must have straightened. ON THE loneliest day of my life, eleven STEPS led to the OUTSIDE. I CANNOT ever visit this place again, for every MOVE I make makes me realize that MY life has ended. LIQUID pours forever onto the bell from the sea, and my BREATHING IS the waves that wash bodies ashore. A coffin SCULPTED from my thoughts moves WITH speed atop the waves. THIS is the BINDING. The sea seems made of GEL, and I sleep within.
Voice2:
It seems odd, I only seem to SIFT about in the melancholy, and I can STILL look back; I can hear the screaming trying to break THROUGH. before HOURS OF pain could eat away my brain, I struggled to disrupt their fold. They sent some sort of insect after me, and ITS wings buzzed up and down the PLASMA surging through my slumbering veins. BIDING its TIME, it laid its eggs in me, chirping with laughter UNTIL THE larvae spilled out from my split skin. Even the CLOCKS had forsaken me by borrowing dead minutes; I recoiled at my own COLLAPSE in ruin. I cared for the larvae, making for them MUSIC with which to fall asleep. They SHATTERED MY limbs with their beauty, and my SPINE became the nest to the horde. ON THE bed whereon i dreamt of love, my eyes formed STEPS up to the OUTSIDE. I CANNOT fathom chasing my own phantoms, as when IMOVE with the vision bestowed upon MY recalcitrance. LIQUID seeps into the roots and makes the forest grow, while its BREATHING IS motionless to those who can see. The trees are SCULPTED with silence and WITH the jagged edges. THIS saw a BINDING; it also dripped GEL from behind my eyes.
Voice3:
Twice ten years, I and a god did SIFT twice ten years into memory, and seven STILL pulses, but frequently memorizing opal THROUGH. During HOURS OF our garbled fornication, Blameless and Faceless were wed. The mystical union was as showers, with ITS magnificent lightning PLASMA bursting upon a thirsting Earth. BIDING no TIME, ev'ry ecstasy fell, causing me to swoon UNTIL THE rapture 'came much too great to bear. Infinite CLOCKS seems a ridiculous vision; the time when all time will COLLAPSE is much worse. But these things are later. when even the MUSIC will play all at one time. I SHATTERED MY ideal of me, with my SPINE straightened for my own serpent. ON THE dry riverbed were dry fish, sand and dust STEPS dropping to OUTSIDE. I CANNOT breathe through lungs that have putrefied, like eyes that MOVE lustily over the dagger MY murderer saw. LIQUID pours dreamily over self-inflicted wounds, and my BREATHING IS as shallow as a red tide pool. Nothing is SCULPTED and nothing is WITH living hands painted. THIS is my BINDING; my masterpiece GEL dressing mediums.
Voice 1: On the beach, I thought it wise to SIFT through the sand that was really glass, but in the STILL of space, I suppose I never really thought it THROUGH. After HOURS OF dust had gathered on the sun, I chanted along with the fish. The bell rose up from the silvery sea, and ITS surface glinted in the PLASMA that undulated beneath it. BIDING my TIME, I paced across the waves, thinking royal thoughts UNTIL THE tears welled up in all of my eyes. All of the CLOCKS in the universe hit the stroke of eleven, and the chiming caused the COLLAPSE of kingdoms. I wept upon the bell, and my tears made MUSIC that danced across the sea. It SHATTERED MY heart to hear that sound, and the SPINE of the world must have straightened. ON THE loneliest day of my life, eleven STEPS led to the OUTSIDE. I CANNOT ever visit this place again, for every MOVE I make makes me realize that MY life has ended. LIQUID pours forever onto the bell from the sea, and my BREATHING IS the waves that wash bodies ashore. A coffin SCULPTED from my thoughts moves WITH speed atop the waves. THIS is the BINDING. The sea seems made of GEL, and I sleep within.
Voice2: It seems odd, I only seem to SIFT about in the melancholy, and I can STILL look back; I can hear the screaming trying to break THROUGH. before HOURS OF pain could eat away my brain, I struggled to disrupt their fold. They sent some sort of insect after me, and ITS wings buzzed up and down the PLASMA surging through my slumbering veins. BIDING its TIME, it laid its eggs in me, chirping with laughter UNTIL THE larvae spilled out from my split skin. Even the CLOCKS had forsaken me by borrowing dead minutes; I recoiled at my own COLLAPSE in ruin. I cared for the larvae, making for them MUSIC with which to fall asleep. They SHATTERED MY limbs with their beauty, and my SPINE became the nest to the horde. ON THE bed whereon i dreamt of love, my eyes formed STEPS up to the OUTSIDE. I CANNOT fathom chasing my own phantoms, as when IMOVE with the vision bestowed upon MY recalcitrance. LIQUID seeps into the roots and makes the forest grow, while its BREATHING IS motionless to those who can see. The trees are SCULPTED with silence and WITH the jagged edges. THIS saw a BINDING; it also dripped GEL from behind my eyes.
Voice3: Twice ten years, I and a god did SIFT twice ten years into memory, and seven STILL pulses, but frequently memorizing opal THROUGH. During HOURS OF our garbled fornication, Blameless and Faceless were wed. The mystical union was as showers, with ITS magnificent lightning PLASMA bursting upon a thirsting Earth. BIDING no TIME, ev'ry ecstasy fell, causing me to swoon UNTIL THE rapture 'came much too great to bear. Infinite CLOCKS seems a ridiculous vision; the time when all time will COLLAPSE is much worse. But these things are later. when even the MUSIC will play all at one time. I SHATTERED MY ideal of me, with my SPINE straightened for my own serpent. ON THE dry riverbed were dry fish, sand and dust STEPS dropping to OUTSIDE. I CANNOT breathe through lungs that have putrefied, like eyes that MOVE lustily over the dagger MY murderer saw. LIQUID pours dreamily over self-inflicted wounds, and my BREATHING IS as shallow as a red tide pool. Nothing is SCULPTED and nothing is WITH living hands painted. THIS is my BINDING; my masterpiece GEL dressing mediums.