How many adjacent gaps until nothingness

It's practical pair of blues
relations strained a colander
filled with hot expectations 
spaghetti pressed close too close

The nose spreads sight lines
pointed disjointed annointed
pleasure challenges challenges
for the satisfaction of satisfaction

How dare you who goes there
what died and crawled unto us
the sadness folds its hands
and says we were meant to bleed

How many liters until a loss 
becomes the whole story 
a gross of dozens of holes
gathered together as a universe 

of empty permanent space