Leave the circles to the men

Buried alive

Beneath a thousand sighs

Incoherent thoughts leap

From yesterday’s ideas

Do you think you can think your way out of this?

Around we go

Like sheep in a square

To water

To food

And back again

Following a trail of triangles

Made with small

Sharp

Feet

Cyclic as the moon

The tides

We think we think

But really

We are all yesterday’s thoughts regurgitated

Over and over

And the day before that

Looking back

Walking, we look to a forward

Bent

Skewed

By the groove

Of habit

And around it goes again

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