I, tired
synecdoches
For exhausted sadness.
I, fragmented animus,
(……….)Stilled air in a mutiny,
(……….)Sent afloat from mine eye.
I, aimless bounty
Missing bligh.
(……….)I, nimble crumbs,
(……….)Too mouldy and dry
To be scraped off the floor
Into bins, out of sight. I,
Too perilless,
Too stagnant
To die.
(I, tired)
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
I, tired
synecdoches
For exhausted sadness.
I, fragmented animus,
(……….)Stilled air in a mutiny,
(……….)Sent afloat from mine eye.
I, aimless bounty
Missing bligh.
(……….)I, nimble crumbs,
(……….)Too mouldy and dry
To be scraped off the floor
Into bins, out of sight. I,
Too perilless,
Too stagnant
To die.
(I, tired)
From the depths of depression, the self starts deteriorating and collapsing on its own selfish loathing. This is what that infected ghost speaks and how the very speech gets chopped up, obfuscated, and verbally suicidal.