Distance, prince of deception
and fictions. Taunting the
lonely mind with
infractions, -

to swim in the depths of fascination.
There’s only faint phantoms awake as you wait.
It’s only the restless thoughts that are slated.
To think about those other places where
you could reach out your hand and relocate.

At the table of frantic feasts, your fate
decided between the savagery of plates
where you’d swallow your anxiety and eat.
This good treat tastes like apple syrup sauce.
Who’d pretend to be dying? No wonder
you’d spend hours researching conspiracies.

“I’ve contracted some kind of disease, I’m
telling you this is like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
and I am Ken Kesey”