I followed the lines
on my palm
and they never
seem
to make up
their mind
as time
passes
by

if our souls were lines
mine is parallel to hers
close but never meet

i like it when my vision fills with color
kaleidoscoping into hybrid hues

or when skinny fine lines
grow into weathered wrinkles

i like it when borders border on nonexistent
and everything blends together
unseparated
unsegregated

i like it when lines grow bold
the strokes of a paintbrush gaining confidence
with every motion

i like it when lines are crossed
over and over
into a tangle of yarn
everything connecting
dissolving
into
a ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff

i like it when lines are blurred
and reality breaks down
letting my imagination roam wildly

i like it when things don't make sense
because i always know
that i can find that line
that leads me back home