White noise

That corkscrewing illusion
where the point of reference
is lost
as if in some simulation

A game of buff where
the victim stumbles through
a pop-up labyrinth
of preordained hardships

Do the regions of Infernum
rotate around our heads
or is it only me
who’s fallen out of step?

I wonder should I kneel
to pray for peace
or would the time be better spent
among these books?

In the moments to destruction
I hold my breath rewarded
with an incandescent vision
of the final futility of being