" we are not well, " said the silent thing... as I was too much love in a small space... condemned to mold spores
and bundles of grieving. Having kept my leaving -
to my Self-Escape... and my geometry
on flat enough planes.
But Alas... here i come with all the energy
of dampening peaks. Hurling Valleys.
clawing at your faceless
face...
Summoning the rude glyph of my industrial surrender
to my Human weakness
masquerading as a Party
of One.

there's always a nerve
you cannot polish for a Joy
or a hell that
has epiphanies
to elude
but not
escape.

And as for you...
Only You -

For
Me.