Feebly mined membranes hosting
The what was called the deranged
Arranged towards sentences that
Dragged on for decades, a rebuttal,
A retort of sorts that we’d resort to
Resting at a temporary plane today
To deign to cast judgement on
Characters in plays that depicted
A vanity in vain, utilizing facts ingrained
In the subconscious as a solution to
Identities invariably birthed and grossly gained;
A stain in a history of our own choosing
In choices made again and again, words
Estranged in their origin, wanton avoidance
Manifested in appearances moralized in
Definitions of sentiences that consisted
Of nothing more than a mere pile of
Flesh and bones, simplified in deprecation
Then exploring existentialism as though
It were novel or even relevant
A detachment in mirrored dualisms
Conceptually intermingled in fibers
Ambiguous lessons taught, faded
In the background, conclusively
Deciding wired connectivity in matters
Passing through inks seeping into
Another existence, like the earth and organs.
Eintagsfliege · Dominik Eulberg
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