The pain is the black hole

and I want to be a straight-line

but I am not.

I am curved around

the point of the pain.

The pain is the sharp angle,

and I am circling around it.

With geometrical progression,

the pain is growing hourly.

I can not look myself

in the mirror.

I am not sure who is

on the other side,

where everything is

an illusion,

so is the pain,

and why we don’t

swipe the places

in this equation

of the square meter

of the circle.

It’s not fair.

That world is only

mimicing me.

Visually like

a soundless

choreography

without impulses.

Take away this

sharp angles

from me

and put it

on the other side

in the window

of the mirror

I want finally

to be disembodied

geometry which

is dancing on the edge

of the black hole

and is feeling nothing.