Hold the line? Thespianic answers. Abode of time annihilates advances. I redesign, I realign. Frozen, as in, foetal. Red-shift bathes the hours when it’s weakest. Space-gap-space; repeat; release the secrets. I redefine, and yet resign. My only hope: to feel. And when I phased out the “privileged” and the “purpose” I realised that art can never true be separated From the frames, and the veins. Incumbent carcinoma That should define who I will never be. Sorry. Cause this is the new way, Still spinning cycles in my mind, So many cycles in the blind, Tryin’ to catch me out. (spoken)