Even light will not
find your black hole, beyond
the resolution.
The mass, volume
in your eyes, measure me.
O god it were you?
Sitter was rising.
Portrait will not complete.
Artist has swept again.
Even light will not
find your black hole, beyond
the resolution.
The mass, volume
in your eyes, measure me.
O god it were you?
Sitter was rising.
Portrait will not complete.
Artist has swept again.