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"Escape Attempt" exhibition
in Museum Kiscell - Municipal Picture Gallery Budapest
That’s what He draws on, the One:
flows of consciousness mingle
Into a blend eventually single,
Particles flash in the mind,
open up so that He might
as consciousness is fading
The desired glory be gaining.
As if his brain was cracking,
he just keeps on sniffing
Through the sewage grates of space
Thought-versions live and then fall from grace,
Only to keep up the race
Lest He might step in its own trace
And turn into ashes instantly
settled back to His Own identity.
He likes to keep us hostage
To His own advantage,
His infinite points are humming,
Causing amplified buzzing,
So you will join in, all tingle
A milliard programs He would run
On our collective energy, and leave us numb
So that He can stay alive,
worming into our marrow and mind.
Nothing new under the sun to see
The once-upon flaps towards the scores-to-be
It is no more than a creation,
a grated timber scaffold of conceptions
An amorphous mesh-bag so familiar:
every incident is identical.
Vocals: A draught is running through the mind