- If things were
If things weren't
If things weren't what they were
If things were what they weren't
We know not what things are!
Things are not what they are meant to be
Caught as lumps deliberated
We struggle those predicated unsaids
That choke
To coagulate in the throat
Expend, expanded in the larynx.
A simulacrated asphyxia
What is this?
What is this that has become of us?
Are we or are we not?
Drawn onto the vortex
Into the corage
Of a cesspool
Of an ever concentrating spiral
Converging inwards, compressing innards, constantly reducing
Only in order to intensify.
Being, almost reaching the just about to be
Gaze-caught
In the eye of the maelstrom
Of an ever vanishing centre
Mine-community-myself
Poised as it were
In the margins
Seeking to asperse
The vacuity of the world.
Will the spectre cease haunting?