It is the end of time!
We're out of time.
Time has simply run out, I'm afraid.
Everything must be abolished or absolved
or impartially liquidated so that it may
be undone by the appropriate agents of nothingness.
Do you understand?
Not now, not then, iron is gas, time is lava,
the cosmos themselves are ambient liquid being poured
into a half-empty sieve of timelessness,
one giant hourglass funnel of Death and Undeath
and everything before and after the end of all things.
The drum-major of this farcical epilogue
is watching the wraiths of his band slowly evaporate
and vanish into the hungry claws of entropy,
where the open vortex eagerly gobbles everything and then itself,
reopening sporadically to consume what
Was and what Is and providing for maddening singularity,
one point in space-time that is neither and both simultaneously,
withering and corroding the bonds of morality
and atoms and all such point-less matters of matter
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