Unfortunately,
the contact high
is temporary.
Unfortunately, supplies
are, by their very definition,
limited.
When we're born,
so much light
and pressure come
flooding in,
we cannot think
to grasp for the handle
of anything.
But soon, we have
no recollection
of the bottomless;
the infinitude of stars
fits into our mouths
like a fist.
Perfect darkness
gets abstracted
by the forceps
of their language,
dissected with tweezers
into the absence
of our genius—as if
learning to use
a word
such as fathomless
was same as
comprehending it.
