oh vagabond
witness to those terminal subsequences
of ones who share not blood but
brack aligning still in their glint
to be eidetic to others
asking directions for streaks
going whichever way in magnitudes equal
bares an overbearing encumbrance of which signs
point to you, alone
oh widower
you eternal pore over acquaintances
perhaps worthy partners to you are to lack
self’s primordial gestalt
our dowry—feeble in flits, intolerant in totality
you vow us your familiar affliction
fair not its function faults phlegmatically
whether virulent or viridescent
miasma is a struggle to see and a roach to rid
so we, bloodletting
mistake your condition for you
and we always do
oh arbiter
anteing accretions of others
suffice it to say you sow sating, sustaining
but satiation surfaces as obsession’s facade
a continual gorge as the cauldron festers bile
unbecoming your crops
mulched by cadavers
your appetite upends
oysters picking out
packing up
proselytised pearls
reflecting;
if not nourishment then
humour yourself this:
why does one reap?