Can I fold your clothes?
Like I fold my opinion
Into smaller and smaller
Fragments of thought.

Can I hold your hand?
Without you sinking
In quicksand.
Left with noughts

No crosses, no kisses?
I'd thank God but he left me
But if not, only to test me.
And I can't find myself.

I can't deduce the deluded
Chaos of this Labryinth.

But I can try,
Die.
Fail or fly.