The sound of the tentacles
Wrapped tight around my head
Fails to drown out the drone
Of the future, dead

Elating the meantime
The question ignored again
Does anyone know where
They really begin?

An answer won't conjure itself
A seed can't remember its fall
Every labyrinth distraction
A lost cause.

Hands that quiver and shake
Quickly in the dark
Grasping for poison
Among the shadows of the stars

Maybe the trick lies in
Lying to yourself
Like a snake who bites onto his tail
Swallowing all of its selves

Forming a circle from a line
Endlessly eating in ignorance
Till there's nothing left at all
No instincts to fail

The outside observer
Never makes the distinction
Between circles and lines
They grin and think

"At least it's not my life
I'll be just fine."

And on trudges the line
On goes the time.