Captured in an electronic scream

Time dead straight in crooked days,
space is falling in the red yearning
of the night.
Next to the breathless harbour
sticking butterflies on his hat
in digital imperfection,
the walls delivered with the memory,
encrusted around the soul.
The inner source of the mirror
loaded and wild,
bouncing up and down,
deep inside the black hole
of the search machine.
The powerless devices
ringing through the silence
in dissonant verity,
the raw bearing
hollering beyond the dream,
hammering clouds dissolving
in the infinite rain.
(secret spies are leaking a universal truth)
A diplomatic pile of words to fall
in a restless sleep.