This is about all, so nothing, as it goes for most similar conceits that line the hallways of mind. Peering multiple ablatives fractalizing the tongue-roof dichotomy à la da-sein; paltry inversion of painted mirrors adorning the inside cave darkness on the outside as though looking in over the shoulder’s cicatrice not dissimilar to bubbling fear.
Safety concerns: chants of existential gloom contingent upon the opprobrium of discontent. Such as it is and more so, yet all told in spectral rhymes protesting the birth-while and its after vapors. Imagine a little person, genderless but not humanless, a diction & circumference sporting cashmere grief heavy with the expectant release of ultimate decay.
So I will, considering this and not the other, re-establish dis-birthing as a recasting of aesthetes swimming in a shimmering pool of boundless drink & gilded disgust, like myself. Myself the target of all those otherlings, farces hovering like impotent clouds, encircling shadows illumined by immobility.
Umbriate Press Poetry 