assimilation n:o 2

The edge doesn’t exist. Everything bows.

In the night wind twirls mill blades
stones grind emptiness.

Ships plow the sea
wrecks of base have new residents.
Fiercely moves under the eyelids
those fast fish.

The boundaries are fake.
Even your dam will break.

I’m the black hole
sucking the world
where the three streams are struggling.