There’s a place that I know where words do not flow
And ideas become objects beyond their dimension
Descriptors fall off like pieces of cloth
Revealing a shape beyond apprehension

This place isn’t really a place at all
If place requires definition
It’s a space of unspace at a time of untime
And no singular subjection

There’s a place we all go where winds halt their bellows
And faces fall off into sand
The lines that defined all the things in our mind
Escape like water from hands

A part of me that runs on words shouts and pleads to try and relate
But I think now that all it is doing is trying in vain to deny and abate its in-placeness