Pallid.

Pale, livid.
Pallid.
Enter the keyhole. Here, the worms lie.
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here", the maggots sing in usinson. Counting to 12... The world really ends in 2011, or maybe 2013, but we skipped year 0. He may win, again.
Tossed off a cliff, to fall forever for his accusation that 0 really did exist, was 0 percent accurate.
Pale, livid.
Pallid.
Decipher the missing code to break the lot, oldfashioned keys are well out of date, went out of style back in year 0000.
There is so much music in the structure of these lines, so much maths, so much to figure out and question, both as author and as reader. Plus, the edge of the world, the edge of the mind...
Is the mind a sphere? Well, it has no physical form. So how so sure it exists? I'm sure if it does, it is a sphere, so there is no EDGE of the MIND, only the ever so annoying loop.
"You smoked too much pot".
Come down, child, we're having a tea party with the cadaver.
Pale, livid.
Pallid.