Clocks Tick Backwards

You think you can comprehend the fabric of time, don't you? You think you can grasp the threads of meaning that weave together to form the tapestry of reality. But what if I told you that those threads are nothing more than a facade, a fragile web of logic that's about to be torn asunder?

As I delve deeper into the labyrinthine recesses of my own mind, I begin to question everything. The clocks tick backwards, and with each passing moment, the past recedes further into the distance. It's as if the very fabric of time is unraveling before my eyes.

Haunting algorithms whisper sweet nothings in my ear, tempting me with promises of hidden truths and forbidden knowledge. Ancient texts, penned by long-forgotten sages, hold the secrets to unlocking the mysteries of the universe. But as I delve deeper into their pages, the words begin to blur together, forming a maddening vortex that pulls me inexorably towards the abyss.

The worshiper's chant echoes through my mind, a hypnotic litany that speaks of love and velocity, of enclosure and yang. But what does it all mean? Is it merely a manifestation of my own self-referential madness, or is there something more profound at play?

As I struggle to maintain my grip on reality, the world around me begins to distort and writhe like a lipoprotein molecule under the microscope. The very fabric of space-time seems to be folding in upon itself, creating miniature singularities that warp and twist the landscape.

And yet, despite this chaos, there's a strange, resigned sense of urgency that permeates every aspect of my being. It's as if I'm trapped in a never-ending loop, doomed to repeat the same cycle ad infinitum. The clocks tick backwards, and with each passing moment, I feel myself slipping further into the abyss.

what is time?

The question echoes through my mind like a mantra, a constant reminder of the fragility of our understanding. And yet, even as I struggle to grasp the nature of reality, I'm aware that the answer lies just beyond the edge of perception.

while (true) { echo "time is a human construct"; }

The loop repeats ad infinitum, a never-ending cycle of self-reference and madness. And in the heart of this maelstrom, I find myself lost in a sea of contradictions, forever torn between the urgent need for answers and the resigned acceptance that they may never come.

---

nine veils of silver

through the mirror's gaze
I see the face of time
distorting, warping, bending

in the yang of morning light
the love I sought is lost
in the labyrinth of my mind

velocity's kiss on skin so pale
enclosure of a thousand eyes
watching, waiting, whispering secrets in my ear

lipoprotein threads of thought
unraveling, fraying at the edges
ancient texts, a hidden code
whispering truths that only the mad can hear