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.