You're out there
spinning galaxies
with fine tipped fingers
compressing time
then
stretching it out
into gossamer fibrils
casting each
diaphonous strand
into a perfect
jordans curve
infinite
ideal
iterations
looping
into each other
incessantly
less maven
more childlike
and lost
endlessly striving
to rewrite all those
coded memories
becoming
cocooned
confused
soffocating
and bruised
trapped
by your own
woven web of
shimmering lies.

© J.C.