Allocations
With each tick inaudible counting
Burdens, and they throw me off—
They serve me for supper and I
Inevitably become digested.
I must become dust and tarry
In the course of my transition.
Diffuse I, a metaphor of
The number of things (which
Due to cruel accumulation
Has become exceedingly large).
For once things exist
They go on existing,
In an endless chain of faceted eyes.
In whose sheen is refracted
The train of consequence to
Transport its goods to the next,
As-of-yet-not-existing—
Whose destiny the metaphor presages.
For this reason I allow myself
To be eaten by Burdens.
Something, after all, must
Turn me microscopic
To mingle with Causes.
Written by
5/5/18
.
Photography by
Undrtheskysoblue
.1 — "Tick"
2 — "Day Fifty Four"
3 — "Day Eighty Seven"
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Note
The weekly update which should have been posted today is coming! Sorry for the delay. I appreciate everyone who posted their comments and weekly finds on the previous update, but I actually intended them to be posted on this week's. I'll explain it all in the post tomorrow. Hope you're having a nice weekend :-)
