Fiction, Poetry


Quantized particles permeate like bursts of super-charged plasma.

Fluctuations of time ripple like narrow slits in diffused matter.

Four forces converge like rain in empty space. And I, the mass-less part of me, feeling pain, increase the causal threshold by a square.

Red, anti-red, blue and anti-blue… these are the colors of my mass-less self.

About Quackzalcoatl

Phoneticist, Palindrologist, and freelance Sharknadologist. Inventor. Ruler of 2-acre lakes and small streams.


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