I was a star and it was boring.
Informed of my quadratics,
At home with my hang-ups and trips,
There were totems, tolls and ribbons,
Deathly paintings of stairs.
It was a reincarnation I have never felt,
Yanking brute ions in streams of the reciprocal.
I lay my hands on the ore of my failures
And remained on a hillside, covered in claws.
It was still early, the recycling hadn't come.
Mediocre ran up my throat
Like a lawn in heat. I loved it.
I loved it so much there was a ceremony:
Nests in flames, the nests of palace spiders.