THE WEARINESS OF A WET CLOTH

2019

A WELL, BENCH, FEET, FUN GUM,

PROPOSITION FOR A GAME

Once upon a time there was this latent urgency of feeling

The weariness of a wet cloth which has soaked up and been wrung out and soaked up all over again until exhaustion took a hold of itself and found the guts to reel its insides right out

They call it efil, I call it life

They think me mistaken, I think me the kraken

The upper you go-er the sinker the lower, the deeper the sleeper the louder the weeper

My mother calls me Apeiron, the boundless, though it seems I must have some sort of something for when every time I face the mirror, I see this reflection staring back at me

A vessel housing my contaminated juice, I take a sip, and then a dip, first a toe before all under I go

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