The Arc

Before leaving for the day
I throw drugs at all my nerves
and all my aches
then check every door 
twice: are they wide open?
Can anyone get in
while I’m gone
so I can kill or be killed
when I get home?

I’m the arc,
not a point on the arc.
I”m invisible
if you peer at any point
on this.  You need to see 
it all,
and this arc
curves through crazy
and penetrates black.

More drugs please 
to smooth the passage.
More self-sabotage
to extend the curve.
More of everything
until it collapses,

until the equation that created me
is solved.