From the Failure Plane
My mind is strapped in a spiderwebbed straight jacket spun cunningly by the night sky’s gossamer factories of vexing thoughts and indecision, like beckoning black holes of space my aura has been etched with the continual failing signs of darkening midnight blue: this, my life, many colliding mistakes; so, like the ever expanding universe, at some point I must stop, let the imposing forces of the implicate order slow me down; shrink and collapse, let my life explode, into another ontological world.