I’d like to think
That someday I’ll
become a person who
never eats what
isn’t truly delicious
and then I like to hope
it’ll never happen.
Chasms and trenches
are dubbed
such when the depth
is unknown and
this is how the
rift inside me extends,
forever downward
like a true line.
I know not what lies on either side
or how far apart the walls
are spread. What troubles
me the most is this lack of knowledge
in particular:
which will I prefer,
the lack of knowledge
or the irreversible
impregnation of my mind
by a higher resolution
picture of myself?