The sensation to harpies tearing into mentality
Rending thought with beak and claw—
in sensing a totality that churns like a dynamo
as a tesseract in myriad dimensions
extradimmensional wheels of contemplation
the slow self-destructive walk into the sea
where things feel foreign and familiar,
internal and extrapolated
& I don’t feel good about anything.
but I get the message—
I sense it as it happens,
as if seeing gravity—
some natural force coming into focus
drawing this emergent reality into myself
beckoning me to meet it
with the claws of my own demons
