Figure, Weave, and Wash

figure, weave, and wash
you, a mad, mystic monarch
plagued by symbols and portents
keeper of a cursed anti-faith
amazed by the lacy intricacies
of an abyssal labyrinth
                     so certain
you are out of your depth


dark waters do run deep

your cocoon-making
has creased the matrix
you never could share the covers
there's no ironing the fold out
there's no getting things straight

the fabric is irretrievably warped
torn, soiled, and sullied

time/space needs a wash
flap your scintillant wings
                    all you like
it's down the iridescent drain
                                     with you

how deep down
is too far in

just past
the event horizon
you live forever ... alas
things do drag on
but you'll finally have
the time and space
to work on your memoirs

figure, weave, and wash

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