Un-typed

I am an art of human

A seed unto the world cast loose

Holding what's unfurled

Beneath, a lonesome seeker of truth

It is undue to suffer

Through a seemly, caustic night

Unbidden, untoward, unwellitude

Unbeing

And unbright

But in the hull solemnitude

Unmeaning

And unkind

We find ourselves in solitude

Inside a well, unlit

Untied

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American

Notes: MMXVI
art being double-meaning for in german Art is type, like species, and has a generally positive connotation in english as comparing oneself to a work of art
don't really know how to make it a clear distinction in the poem without making it pedantic and weird but it seems not to fit with the seed metaphor and really i lost the thread at the end there... the ship is in a well? idk it's an old poem i found in my email and i can't pick up where i left off

always compulsively edit your poems before you lose your train of thought, kids, you will not make heads or tails of it later

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