In the vast expanse of space and time, how many times did my father meet my mother, and how often did they have kids, how often have they produced my life,

  I feel like I've lived this life for eternities, yet my mother and father have always been the same,

  This timeline, Epstein and Trump, Israel and Hamas, Ukraine and Russia, it is something that is very familiar to me,

  But if one was to assume that possibility encompassed the world like a flood, and filled each crack and hole, snort it up, smells good, hairy bush,

  What was I saying,

  If possibility took into account our ancestry and our humanity, if it was a tree, the branches would still cover the skies and hide the sun,

  So many pairings of love-sick humans, strings pull and anyone can be consumed by passion,

  What I’m saying is if one took into account all that possibility offers, a world where I’m born is four inches of infinity at most,

  Additionally, you may not want to consider this, but I’ve watched my life unfold behind these eyes, and possibility has consumed me as well,

  Those lovely nurses and Walmart girl, may we have our dreams,

  In the end, my point is that my life, across the vast expanse of space and time, is improbable,

  Thus, we can conclude that as I watch this play out for eternities, this place simply matches the frequency of my mind,

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  We are immortal, the great I am, and the eye of Sauron,

  This deep pit, is it rude to stare,

  Like a shooting star that landed on earth,

  This place, me, Vance and Trump In a room, three dudes one cup,

  Whether it is alpha or omega,

  Whether it is yin or yang,

  Everyone on earth,

  Is filling the same cup,

  My father who art in heaven has many rooms,

  But this is our world and this is our cup,

  If we're not cousins, we're at least neighbors,

  Does it really matter,

  Beginning of the rupture,

  Beautiful mother earth,

  The moon in the sky,

  The pushing and pulling of the waves,

  Where are we driving this rock,

  Please tell me, as the turbulent waves of the world line ripple in the background, so many idiots, and the deep hole that this world hides in,

  Cousin, tell me, will we fail ourselves in this life,

  Now that I think of it,

  Synchronicity is composed of so much,

  If the universe was just telling a story to itself, would it be a song,

  This place and time, this version of the universe, or this cup,

  What's relevant,

  Just kiss the altar and pray,

  Tell me, mother, is Star Trek still a possibility for us,

  If this was a story, would the ending be obvious,

  Walking towards the abyss, along the valley of life and death,

  Who will be saved, when the heavens get tired, and our fire is snuffed out,

  Or is the world just a story the heavens tell us as they rock us to sleep, are they attaching strings, and will we realize the relevance of this in the next life,

  One thing’s for sure, we are all receiving a lesson of what man has dared to do under the sun,

  Like apples from a tree,

  The depths of the abyss,

  It hides in each one of us,

  Trump and Epstein, so dumb,

  Privilege, robbed of your fear of god,

  I'm just a poet, recording what crosses my mind, five paces to the left of the narrative, because I don't want to be involved in it,

  But if I was to say anything, homie, you had a good run,

  The curtains are about to close,

  Your karma and what waits for you in the next life,

  Maybe all poetry is prophetic,

  Don’t worry, have fun...