in the heart
of sheer chaos
a fool sits
loupe affixed
using tweezers
to stack fractals

the trade off
between a too open
heart and a labyrithian
mind makes the shifting
soulshallows treacherous
nigh impossible to
navigate without
a trustworthy guide

i think he drowned
somewhere south
of the last disaster
in phantom pantomime

if he was ever real
not just myth told by
vapid therapists too
consumed by the coke
rattled idiocy of men
too enamored with
their own mothers
incapable of spinning
hope to the motherless