In this cosmos, space is meiotic, its transluscent-soft like the inside of an eyelid. You are a floating head accepting the gamut of the universe, but rejecting its body. Now begin to swallow the worlds like a giant octopus lashing its multioccullus tentacles, its eyes could see the infection of existence, the virology of the boundless symbol but also the tiny baiting eels that creep like thin fungal threads around a white hole. Splurging and whizzing and lashing and lightning.