ǝʇɐɓǝu

every morning is a race to reassimilate

blue light to the pupils, pains, differing dreams from memories,

limp like a caterpillar from my safe coccoon of a bed and its fantasies

forced into the guts of this living maze

i become negated, crushed by the heavy atmosphere

the narcissisus flower I tend to every night limps in the shadow of my projected image,

it is soaked in acids

the chambers of the heart feel heavy,

slough apart like necrotic skin, expose my naked materiality

ego sighs and expires its contents, diffusing like spores from this flower's pistil

it pumps through my blood and lymph nodes as alive and unalive,

sterilizes magics of night, of solitude, mechanizes this mortal plight

what remains, an organic android of rote function

this circadian metamoprhosis with no origin or end

this fraility of connection may further faulter

if I fail, i'd prefer not to know: slip away,

wont sequester myself in a greenhouse; planting seeds of reason, watering fragile facts or truisms
to make this shadowy world stand still in a shoddy construction

negated by a faulty brain or a false world

a narcissus flower flooded into deep dirt,

rebirthed and plucked by Maenads
dream as something new and ever completing, born of chaos and oracle visions

logics and processes of body, mind, world, become fever dreams

reifying myself over and over in a perpetual hatching