the baleful primal

<<earth is foreign, as We are to Jude.
 numerous rotations accumulated
within the confines of prehistoric walls,
to absorb and seek a solution
to what has the possibility 
of entering intergalactic cosmos
and sundering all.>>

Jude's hand clawed at his face
trying to free something,
horrified noises elevating
to hysteria,
the clock ticked away
three o'eight in the morning.

"No no no, it's not time yet,
it's not - it's not fair!
leave me in peace,
I am not who you say
I am meant to be!"

<<this did not make sense.
who was Jude meant to be?>>

careful now. a singsong voice
that hinders good dreams and
swallows all fortune.
you're no use to me maimed.