Weeping wounds lie at the heart of the wellspring,
Whose acrid tears are the meal of a godless whorl

An accretion disk convinced of personality
A depersonalizing wreck envious of its own neck

Bearing witness to reflections in the collapsing medium that surrounds the head

And hands stretch out in the great magnetic core
Where breath can stay and peace is an object unto itself

But no one ever tries,
Because the shuddering has remembered the choking
And impossible securities have just been left behind
Like the longest path of stepping stones to a grave.