Millions of bubbles; bubbles, bubbles. Bubbles.
Who could have thought
would be curse of all,
and source of all
encasing nuclei of fire.
Each germinates and breeds
subtle filaments of desire.
Desire slides in and overpowers,
making our best intentions fail.
It weaves the painted veil
which shrouds this world,
this world, which is not ours.
It proliferates with every minute.
Our eyes are trapped within it.
The world’s a vast and empty machine.
Silent and unseen.