Mortar and Pestilence

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I mortar that I shall become

In the derangement of routine

As ineffable as stone.

In relation to the mundane

Gravity encroaches upon me

With a ferocity that an apple

Spoiled or otherwise

Cannot replicate

 

Do any of us understand truly

The relevance of being sentient

The eggshell hieroglyphics

Of the behemoth before

It has sheltered blood?

Can anyone doubt

The elasticity of the womb

Which accommodates so readily

The fine-boned lotus?

 

I want to nurse something beyond

My premonitory wounds,

A porcine muse that feasts

On my ever thickening chrysalis

The question of reciprocity

Is not often a generous one

To depend solely on reassurance

To fashion of it a requisite will

Is to condemn oneself to poverty

 

So long as words exist

I shall exchange them

To the infirm they are coins of passage

A sapling merely I begin and end

As an Ouroboros, composure being

A game of scalpels and frailties

I manufacture sanity through savagery

And if I am lucky that passes for life

*

Lately I have been feeling quite stuck and quite self-conscious/tongue-tied so I decided to just write and not worry about making sense to see if I could unstick myself haha. On another note I am dog-sitting a 13 year old Swedish Elkhund, she is very sweet and calm but my schedule is at the moment a bit off. Right now I seem to be interrupting her cuddle time 😛

 

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