Immediate Contemplation

Softly now simmer down and listen proud to the questions presented now.
My mind is an endless hourglass flipping constantly in and throughout time.
Sand beats on glass with no escape from the rhythmic rhymes that paralyze hopeful signs.

Cascade through centripetal forces that endorse the course that this bottle swam through.
In the hope to land at you, a message in a bottle I had hidden while throttling through growth avoidance.

So is cosmic intelligence a step toward benevolence or a reason to chase down a path to become irrelevant.
A testament in sorting through what's being taught as heaven sent, I’m lacking patience in asking these questions.
Picasso regression is an escalation to the feeling I once thought was elation, I use that word a lot.

Elation - a state of intense joy or exalted happiness, hilarious I’ve never actually felt it.

So when I say I feel like the dude in Interstellar
Floating in the vacuum of space without a trace of the ideal time.
While I whittle these lines and focus on compounding rhymes in the reason why I’m trying to understand this work's spine.
With meteors flying by my head as my suit leaks out air, I wonder how dare I think of crying now.
If I don’t grab this rope and then all hope is thrown out as a joke.
And these words could be meaningless pieces of ink that hypothetically appeared as I broke down.

Screaming into the void wondering if you would finally look now.