we have created asymmetrical geometry in replacement of prayer.
i find myself in the circles right before they are struck into lines,
and as consumption jars my bones from septum to sternum,
i am sure of something escaping from beneath the flesh.
she treads a nicotine haze,
i drift knees-first into the insidious swells of consciousness.
she seeks a savior through submersion, trusting that the darkest depths contain completion for herSelf.
i seek a savior to lift me above the choppy waves and take me to a shore I won’t want to abandon.
we draw lines on maps and underneath words in novels,
and we turn our bodies into lines for beauty and order.
a line sanctions evolvement,
a circle does not.