To someone I know of

This too is a poem. He said with a smile,
then drawing more circles again for a while.
The rabid ambition that drove him for hours
turned thousands of rings to a dot that devours.
This too is a poem. The menacing sound of a note
where music meets rain on a gutter.
'Been raining so long the room is afloat,
and the loop of the chords is sinking his boat,
with all the insistence of water.
This too is a poem. Conduits lead to conclusions.
His wall is a fractal of fears,
with lines that connect disjointed ideas
that gathers and festers delusions.
Grabs the knife in his hand,
and his face full of tears.
This too is a poem. Blood smears.