Circles spin in
Circles spin in
Circles.
Introspection like a drill
And my mind sinks beneath
Forever where
Depths speak of
Years gone by
Like rising smoke
And you made
The fire.
Thoughts perch on clouds,
Fall among the rain
Into speech with
Thunder and lightning.
Flames doused,
You exit stage right
For a moment.
Fluttering chaos
Holding floods at bay
Walls built as
Walls break and
Water wins.
You come with floods.
You are the
Brain filling flood
And my mind
Drinks it all until
There's nothing else.
Water.
You.
Is this madness?

Otherwise things continue
in bright yellow rounds.
The road tears at my throat,
I cannot see it's path,
tar-eyed I stumble,
fall, cry out,
mute and stillborn.

This is how it should be,
circles, rounds, crocus, wild,
geese south, frozen ******
ponds. Yet I am the infitnite

whirlwind at the center.
and the giant at the edge
of the universe. Still
I call, cry out: blind.

Otherwise I would leap high
hurling myself past moons
to become star: brilliant,
pulsating. The road tears at throat
yet things continue, as I revolve the orb.

I was supposed to be working on a project
But my mind is adrift
Thinking of you and its logic

Tell me now, what is the denouement
Should I hang on or let it slip
Knowing that this will only take us
Nowhere,
But in circles and disarray

Some things never change
    


      The circular stains on the ceiling above my heart shaped bed didn't exist under that rule

  Sometimes they *seemed constant
           And sometimes that made me feel ok
            
        But other times, as I lay in bed,
            Somewhere near the halfway point between laying down and falling asleep,
       I stared up at them and they moved
         Left and right
Ellipsing each other,
    Becoming ovaloid in shape

Sometimes they simply flitted away, vanished


    I thought them gone,
But they continued to return.

They would not be so remorseless as to leave and not look back to see the blank space they had left.

     So my little circular stains stayed for a while.

    I was happy looking up in wonder at something I could never understand but never dared question.

   Until one day I simply wasn't. My interest in the stains steadily faded until I began to drift off on my side staring out the window, searching for owls I could hear but not see. These sounds made me hope.

They made me open the windows I had locked tight.
They made me breathe.
    
    Those sounds lull me to sleep even now.

*And I've stopped looking for the circles completely

Inside the universal set:
Circle A and circle B;
Circle you and circle me.

To keep things easy,
we started with the numbers on the outside,
but soon grew to the small part in the middle.

That small slither
of similarity.
But the numbers are just there for
Clarity.

Not to mention circles
C,D,E & G.

But circles are circles,
and people are people.
You are you.
I am I.
And that was that.

The hardest part of seeing old friends
is convincing them that you have
changed.
That you are no longer the person
that they used to know.
For better or worse,
that person is
dead.
If they can't understand that,
then they are just reading the same page
from the same book
looking for different
words.

It's been a while,
A good while,
But it's back.
There's nothing I can do
I'm helpless in thinking about you