From Mayfair to Metropolis we weave
back and forth in a zigzag of straight lines
challenged by spatial relationships
the twisted geometry of random constructs
makes of my days a maze a concrete haze
hangs like granulated fog upon my shoulders
the sinister shawl we’ve all been weaving.
So I go with vertigo an inner ear reaction to inaction
the body wants to move forward embrace velocity
there are always obstacles mangled metal twisted nerves
I linger at the ones I cannot remove
the caution light was broken the signs splintered
I catch myself trying to reposition them
then remember I’m the one who tore them down.
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