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.


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