pyschogeometry

bright lights and off-white knights
the kind of wave you can't even
try to fight
dividing lines and vital signs
approaching boundaries undefined
passing close to the brilliant center
the singularity that was never really there
our comet flies wide
we spin too far from the sun
sublimation ceases

ouroboros on a plane
swallowing another inch,
another word of false certainty better left unsaid
he draws close the horizon

too many angles in this head
i can't keep a hold
can't grow strong for growing old
i'm slipping between the sixth and seventh ribs
to raw intention veiled in skin
i test the conditions
for this new volition

these tesseracts are in your head
too many faces
i cannot comprehend
all origins invisible to the naked eye
and how naked am i?
with my breath held tight in my chest
and my tongue gone soft with disuse