There are holes in my soul
That fill me with dread
These spaces in the things i’ve said
Empty of something
On the tip of my tongue
i stand on this ledge
Transfixed by the sucking pitch
Swirling the pools of umbra
my eyes are oars
my words are spears and splinters
cast upon the world
Sure-Kharon would flounder in these whorls
still, a soul is cycled and recycled
samsara dry-clean-only
and everyone’s a fraction of infinity
there is no absolution because there’s nothing but connection
i’ve never known a hero that i couldn’t flatten
my worship is corrosive, my attention burns the satin
freed from love, has always been my drug
but Lethe filled you, then you died
and robbed me of my favorite high
death is division, fractional and fractal
i need to organize my suffering
Label the compartments
i must be within
All i am is ends and means
Never found what lies between
There are places i need to get to
and people i need to be
the shortest distance is none at all
a choir of angles singing and stringing me along
all space is negative when i don’t fill it completely
And always i am lost in it