Relentlessness & Craft

I can't stop me. I can only be
Stopped. I'm a madman for my craft, me,
And like all madmen I disbelieve

The obvious and conventional,
However correct. Dimensional
Dementia in me's intentional.

I am determined to chart the curve
By which atoms of memory swerve,
Tapping fingertips against the curse

Of certainty nothing much is left.
After nothing's taken, I'm bereft.
Emptiness is stunning in its heft,

But remove emptiness entirely
And terror radiates, bizarrely,
Post nothing, nonexistence, fiery.