Infinity my home
Maybe I am testing something that I am going to invent.
Maybe it is a punishment, a prison of ideas.
Maybe there is a goal that we are trying to reach.
Maybe I am a machine and this is artificial emotion because the life of a machine is dull.
When you do something too much you can almost reach the limits and perforate the skin.
When you do anything too much something else is better to do, roads are limited in length.
If we are electronic impulses, vapours, bacteria or filth, maybe it is good not to know – the reality could be horror and hell.
Maybe I am a lonely man with infinity my home and nothing beyond my back door,
which I have never seen because my house is too big.
In fact, I can never see it because if I walked towards it forever I would be no closer, but further away than I could possibly get.