Abacinate me cruelly,

my pupils didn’t wish to see,

the world like this anyway;

This babeldom affects my sanity

and destroys and distorts my thoughts–

like a caesura,

I take a pause–

breathe it all in,

absorb morsels of demulcents

to soothe my aching soul,

and my encaustic brain

comes to life,

illuminated by blue, green,

gold, and purple.

I arise from this fimicolous existence,

like a child let loose from the womb,

into a place of gramary–

wringing my humectant hands

of my internal dread–

but alas, I’m unafraid

of being the victim of irrision–

what they say is all jabberwocky,

meaningless, but meant to hurt–

and I can’t even feel it–

banana peels,

and I’m slippin’–

kymatology and the like,

can only tell us so much,

but we’re human–

and that in itself is our flaw,

and a blessing–

because who aspires

to the attainment of the key

to the secrets of the universe–

not I–

for I am labile to the will of the world,

viewing it as my matrical keeper,

until a widespread necrobiosis

poisons us all to death,

which is an operose,

but necessary task,

out of which I spy,

a proceleusmatic new beginning–

Gone are the quixotic notions

to which we formerly adhered.

Like the ocean waves,

we reinfund,

back and forth,

teasing the shore;

and after having our fill,

we zoom up to the sky,

to stellify ourselves–

but we don’t belong there either–

we are totipotent,

but still unsure of our usufruct–

if we learn from history

and our past mistakes,

we will be mindful of

venereous pursuits,

so as not to thrust

our avaricious digits

into every orifice of the terrene,

upon which we dwell.

It could be the wanion

of the world to welcome us back,

but the xenodochial nature of this planet,

is inherent and true.

We will be taught how to control

our yen for power and glory,

that only die along with our physical beings,

lest we desire zoothapsis . . . .


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