The jaws of space are white.  I have faith in nothing, yet I believe in love.  I have fawning prayers, yet an isthmus juts out of my course.  I climb up out of the wreckage again.   Trakl owes me a swarm of bees.   The marble took on the shape of the absolute, because the moon was dead.  The rope was frayed at both ends.  Because it was suspended in the darkness, I knew that empty time was all there had ever been.  Self-realization practices shot out of a small pistol.   Targeted reefs scattered, lending efficacy to my twists.  Little pumps signified a bit of life that apparently the behemoth had forgotten about.  Yards of pain were sold by the pound.  Femurs had their way with a coccyx.  Membranes sent signals into skin-sacs using battery and combustion technology.   I didn't meet my target, and I didn't stick to my plan - because I abandoned God, so he abandoned me back