Fibromyalgia Snail

Fibromyalgia Snail

I want to live there, of course:
Whorled, pretty perfect, echoing
The ouroboros, the labyrinth, but homelier
Within its calcium domain is sanctity
But also juicy fat gollops of greasy
Slurry which organises the little engine
To walk, if walking is a shivering
Of muscle aches and contained
Abandon. How my blood leaps
To be within a pink space
Neither hot nor cold, but coldhot
Flux. It is a symbol, the spiral
But that wrecks me
My synapses rap ticktack
Trying to find the root
The old root of mathematics
The Minotaur in his cave
Theseus dead cool down there
Picasso in his psychopathic
State of narcolepsy, a hand full
Of dust, so I keep going
Looking for my favourite leaf
On which to suck.

 

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