Passing, always passing:
The people I wish I'd met,
Met long before their passing.
I take a crash course in their existence
Personal history, wishes and interests
Scribbled for a rudimentary assessment.
I'm left only with these scrappy souvenirs
Notes that barely scratch the surface
Of lives that cannot be summarised.
The Narcissist's roof caves-in as delusions collapse into reality.
When has this man-child ever had to face reality before?
I love the smell of inevitability in the morning.
Ego hidden in plain sight
I hide it
Hide it with all my might
I have placed my childhood bibles (that aren't Bibles) on your bookshelf; hidden them in plain sight. A cheap subliminal trick I know, but one meant as an investment in time and knowledge: to peck away at your curiosity like the Woodpeckers I hope you'll read about in that Illustrated Encyclopedia of Birds, which to you, right now, is just a jumbo colouring book too heavy for your restless hands.
Irrelevant years of existence
Vast drowned numbers
Swimming with the fishes
Your blue-hypnotic drowns my eyes
I dive into your cold embrace.
As I type
My body is investigating
A tiny fraction of a tiny virus
That has conquered a world.
His mind's pained pleas echo
The brain's chosen words fragment
Inside his closed mouth