After the apogee of the mania
some part of my mind slips
into error and distortion:
a moving face on the curve of
the shining surface of the sphere of my being.
Some higher part of the mind
observes the melting away of my psyche,
leaving nothing but a whale’s footprint.
I inhabit the wind,
or it me.
I feel the sum of who I am
and all of my own experience
being entombed in the darkness of desperation;
funneled into a hole in the night
in the shape of a grave.
