Four Corners of The Blue Room

 Now the hour's past and I've walked away from the broken-down vehicle with low gas all of past months to a new road seven miles from here.
 Head over feet.
 Forward.
 WAKE UP. 

 You reach your hand to hold him, but he cannot be our guide.
 Walk inside circles and ride your words with open eyes.
 Held head high with basted smiles for the collectors by your hand,
 day by night and mating awake?
 Five shadows are singing themselves to sleep.

 I am the Minute Snake. Let me tell you of heartache and insanity. 

 Starve yourself, my little inbred child. Binge on truth, search; Heaven's trail behind dust and whole corridors. Four in one, now for three: Six eyes looking at two and directing and the sound becomes more sophisticated.
 Fuck later the new we must perish below our frozen atmosphere and tear stain-marks across the long-winded roll-winding television skies. Rip the hollow hymen flow, my babe. 

Start a wild riot; you are laying tired; vacant swills in fire; we won't own a thing above the splotches, spurt, puddles leaking out from your grace.
 Implode several continents of curiosity.
 Watch the homeland separate in explosion.
 Beasts cage, tamed, and stung with lies until they cannot see.

 Subject runs against the edge,
 worried are the guards calling in,
 as the tested creeps every inch against wills and warns.
 Creators and white-labbed observants scribble their reports, supervisors plead advice, the entire circle spins around mortal and assumption with blood and urine. Doctorned our way over and over until final result.

 Dust clouds formulative projects. Recipe (one by one, drop two drop, rising smoke observe counteract and deploy, out of boundary and they could not add mediums within their limits) for the perfect caliber of our mixed physic, mental, personal, psychical attributes of our beloved estate - networth about as much as we could scarf on entertainment.

 Drive by drive
 Stomp by stomp
 Day by day
 Lost by lost
 Calm. Remain cool until it is time,
 my million-multi slave-owning rocket.
 You will discover other life-forms and destroy
 our labeling hill in due time.
 Is the clock ready?
 Tick tick tick.
 WORK IT FASTER.
 FASTER.
 FASTER.
 FASTER.

 Out on the floor for the audience bellow shout, cheer applaud, wonder awe -- ignore, Ignore. Ignore. Push off. Throw away each gentle word as figment hallucination in imaginary circumstances as word-makers please their alter-ego's the Father has provoked them into.  Of all gentle foot-dwellers vague interest locked against hours of silence; uneasy temperament and wandering cold-stares of statue.
 Are you about to die? Non and we shall leave your ream until it is time to dream worlds without crucial birth.

 At the beginning, middle, and end.

 I am the Minute Snake.

 Return now to your daily jobs and routinely hours.

 Tomorrow I will depart from our slaved world.

 I want you to come.