Knots in the Continuum

wear the algorithms of shame. in a kaleidoscope of choices. explore the broken skin.

they're not wounds. but rather entry points. 

the weight of the world pivots. and we lose our balance. 

hidden in quiet rooms where we leave the light on. though the doors remain locked. 

time chews on the distance. and we find ourselves abandoned. 

a fading scar in someone else's palm.

looking in windows that ache with our stare. even though the inside is barren. 

the years assemble their paradox. an unyielding catastrophe of contradictions.

these bodies. frail machines of unknown origin. fueled mostly by deceit and regret. 

nomads. crippled by the useless maps that we draw. to places that don't exist. 

doomed because. 

we can only be found when we are lost.