i am a wheel with three thousand arms and i have never been more alone

i am a wheel with three thousand arms and i have never been more alone.

i am a wheel with three thousand arms, and each one is on fire.

a wheel spinning

spinning

spinning

spinning endlessly.
spinning since before i knew myself
to be a wheel. going...

back then, so long ago,
i knew spinning as walking and
walking as joy. it was enough to
move under my own power.
for myself and by myself.
i radiated will.

now i radiate naught
but want and spokes

my sickly, spindly spokes, they itch with unmet desire for an other. hold a breath - what is that they sense?

where? where is there to go?
does anything lie beyond the edges
of my rim? my desperation flickers
into flames.

the flames flicker into hands,

grasping

grasping

grasping and finding
purchase.

solid wood.
wood warm with the promise
of company. wood that kisses
the threshold.

i kiss it, too.
and i am kissed in turn.
but

the kiss echoes:
my own touch, blind intent,
meets
my own self, nerves blind

shakes hands and turns
back in on itself.

for i have been, all along, utterly

alone.