Edges

Find the undefined in the defined.

Voices are in clamor. Billions of the living, unborn, dead, half-dead and undead climbing, creeping, trampling, enveloping into the grid of malformed ideas and desires. The earth was discovered to be round, yet I have found its edges; places unheard of in the insane, immaculate philosophy of civilization.

They plumb vertiginous heights and depths, with only the echoes of a memorial sentience that once dreamed of happiness on the carnal plane, reverberating in hollow screams off of calcified walls. Measurements here do not exist; of horology I know nothing. Heat, as if of a planetary exhalation, carries with it the law of death, and I know the bibulous meanderings to put damnable order to chaotic form will soon extinguish. 

Reviews

[Maglia Weaver Twill]

oh "malformed ideas and desires" how sad! I did not think philosophy to be immaculate therefore.

calcified walls are of a cave?

heat does not carry a law of death surely, but okay that is possible