Nothing has a centre

a cancerous day nothing to guide
 all the monuments of slower aeons sank into the loam
 even time decays like a razor through creation
 as I sifted through the bones of a soiled humanity
 with swirls of light and meaning drained out of the universe
 a fever dream or a brooding advanced decay?
 the hollow of night drifts like the slowest sea of all
 the edges failed every fragment rushed away
 thrown around the centrifuge of space
 disintegrating set of cells disintegrate space
 woven back together with chemical thread
 cord which makes us live
 branches run down with bones of ancient stone
 and roots grow up with the weight of the air
 interminable ennui
 a ragged cascade of neurons edging out
 the roots were so shallow once free to stagnate
 it slowly drains away to a level that can't be reached
 decay non being urging death
 roots grow down with ancient stone
 swarms of purest crystal expand reality something high very pure and empty
 above the lines of light and when we reach the highest point things fall apart in all forms created
 time passed unused bestial and lonely
 a gaunt catalogue of bones and hollows
 the frame tested to destruction as veins tremble and secrete
 but what if time is the disease an essence of discarded nothing
 roots grow up with ancient stone
 interminable ennui
 branches run down with bones of air
 cascading neurons
 urging death decay and non being
 stagnant relics
 free to suck the marrow of time or nothing.