Mind’s bent, spooning negative spaces, scooped.
A dream inside, a flight that’s yet to land.
The hole it leaves, lies infinitely looped.
With so much mass, over and over banned.
Cross legged, thinking of peace, brain games fail.
Floating, spinning from physical meaning.
White light blinds, something heavy, made out pale.
Tells me to bow, laughter so demeaning.
Cannot escape this, though not yet enslaved,
Not quite in hell, though I’m never quite saved.