Oh, the worlds which in
I’ve dwelled, passing again
Through mist by mist
Faces erupting, faces dim
I must, I muster, I am
Fumbling graceless
On some twist of sin
And tasteless chaos
Where I’ve been reduced
Now incoherent echoes
Of meaningless words
Lost consonants
And low vows.

I wait for the rain
Which falls in me
To soak the solid
Am I insane?
Is insanity
The absence of hollow
Or the ability to see?
Can life possess
Or in truth be
An isolation tank?
I sank into sensory deprivation-
It sank back into me,

And still I’m tumbling
In the great descent.