When the winds of my internal combustion
metamorphosis shifted phase; with the moon
in low orbit, with the sun beating down upon
my flat and expansive terrain,
Grimoire catharsis; an order placed,
fast food lethargical reconstruction of Eden’s
city of the blind.
at the hour of the night
you do not know when,
siege towers are built up
against your walls,
and everything is laid waste.
Love is not inherently
in the sinkhole of matter & mind,
is caused by love’s lost inquiries.
I have fallen,
nay, I already fell
before the beginnings of time & space.
Fell into oblivion, almost.
And am stuck now in this strand of web.