the art of rot (iii)

as a lens, a crystal ball, and an autobiography

when did it become possible to look at a rot

and do nothing about it? when did it become

the only way of looking?

a stone tossed into a bell : a prayer to be an answer

tucked inside a mango and still be called a stone

by at least one tongue.

the timecone of my existence and the piss arc

of my mind are congruent : an eczema of abridged

dreams, hence proved.

the spores depart for the arriving and then arrive

at the departing because where else can they go?

if only i could believe

in a place before entering it, a body to be more

than corrosion or corrosive, i'll teach the spores

to stay as a want

rather than plowing through something that leaves

no signs of leaving. 

~ ajay

17/9/2022

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