Act Iii: Genesis Poem by Dylan KD.

The new solution sleeps within the vial,
it's song drips like the tentacles of the sun.
Still alone in this dome, waving to creation

The math of the animator dreams within the vial,
his sleeves are paper injections
inked in the blood of the golden hand.
His day is slow without the shade
or shapes in drooping hollows.

And so I lay dying in a punctured chariot, holding the vial.
My math is complete, and my nerves are never ending.
This sacrifice begins with a sound
and fades out with imagined applause.