Approaching the asymtopes
I lust for the order
A warm herd mentality
Of wrist-watch worship.
Tending toward infinity,
My equations become meaningless
Like garbled psychotic spew
Or dogs barking in the park.
Bending into the plane,
My purpose is flat and shallow.
Fate is a gravity
An endless vector --
Yet if I converge to a point,
Then why am I skew?
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