the chamber was still and cold
but a spark impels a perpetual force
that feeds itself and sets in course
a writhing circuit
all the shiny spinning rings
all the dirty spitting things
there's an absurd strength in the coil that grates itself
into a slag of black and impossible dregs for me to
grind fine in my mind
cut through space like the dead tongue fiends for a crowd to address
and in searching find them to be deaf
you've forgotten the machine running all your spirals for you
but recall and find you can progress
straight line
wind me up find me idle
set me inside close the channel
following traces tracks on the ground
someone's been around // tracks I laid down