WHIRL

Of a whirl I shall talk
my affliction's murderer
my question is locked
let the pain for later

I shall write of a pupil
which is so brittle
made of human material
but its soul has been whittled

I shall talk of a trip
of an astral projection
like an angel's weep
like a demon's suggestion

On my passion's behalf
my ego's lost piece
it abandons me half
and I wonder of my miss

Yes, I'm talking of it
and that's me whom I punish
I'm chronicling a myth
and in my myth I shall vanish

And this myth can exist
like an applause of a claque
but if you're coward it just is
a single flea in  haystack