We think: this circle
fits us perfectly—
but “perfect”
has its viciousness:
obsession bids
obsession bids
“accrue” until
guilt wills that we
divest. In this way,
we first compress,
then consume
our own souls—
like the tails
of starved snakes who
just cannot wait—
til our essences won’t
fit through the mud-
hole to heaven
because they're
so small, yet so full of
nonexistences.
