the line between madness and genius is a pattern noticed a hair's breadth
too far from the crossing lines vibrating in our eyes
like cats raised vertically can't see horizons
i wasn't born to see this.

the contempt i coddle for my indulgence is missing from your cat eyes
but my what big teeth you have grandmother
better to taste generations with your elf-nose and cat smirk
that shoot starlight into mad minds.

sometimes i think i met lancelot in the wrong order
and that you're the proof that chaos makes art
and random patterns are madness made genius by attention
so forgive me for my suspicions.

how does the nervous insomniac love without reservation or doubt
chasing the sun through the tropic of aries
swilling words around in your mouth and in your teeth to soften ones
that i was born to believe.