triangle

all those fragments that shot through so fast
into some perfect formation of language
and then
snuffed out the other side
knowing they existed, now
in a place that is not
beyond, but
under
my consciousness

having spent the longest
seconds and
inches of hours with me
and knowing all of me
like some fast-forward future
intellect system
with the same principle as me
though slightly less
blood
in both veins, hands and sink

(I keep imagining the door opens, but
I suppose that's
what I
wish would
happen - like some old ritual before I
fell off the stage)

and like you'd wind deeper and deeper into your computer made colours
I can traverse forever
into the curves of my own words

like everything at 23 it
goes before I get to have it

and I suppose - like you said
why would you have some skin
when you can have walls and her
and fate