Circular path

Left step, in-regress, forward progress. Need to walk on circles, as my direction, Sense is nonsense, no compass needling

Magnetically centred at home aloneness Despite this, claustrophobia dictates, The urge to roam, to defy the urgent loss

I tie a reel of dental floss. Tether up my, Door to ankle, giggling tripwire, mighty tangle. Then I scribe out rings increasing

Inconvenient menace to towns folk-fuck. Raise my eyebrows at angles, glaring. As knitting webs to catch witch snitches

those whose used old glue, frustration, nothing left for pending stiction. A little lumpy under thumb, smoothing muesli, fuck confuse me.

Naughty newcomer, ticked cruxes. No time, perusing upturned boxes. Nailed my colours to the noise floor. Soothing coverage, working to corners,

A pursuit in being thoroughbred smelter. A mirrors inner, reflective shimmering Bonded before baking, but a wondrous fake-in.

Cover, hardback, contents vision. Sterile for that blunt incision. Pages yet to be filled in sumptuous texting. Temptation in burnt indexing.