Monday, October 26, 2015

Angor animi

The anguished soul, as cultured
As a cheese whose curds have mixed
With mold from loaves left in caves,
Peers out, compound self, from eyes

Fringed with bacterial dust
And despairs before turning
Away. Everything gathered
To witness must dissipate

And transubstantiate. Trace
Remnants kind to forensics
May inform another day,
But the revenants gibber

Without consideration
For themselves or for the selves
That might be formed from pieces
Of the thing no longer them.

The thing considers its end
In the pure concentration
Of that about to consume
The many to become none.

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