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Michael isn't me- Not now
My very existence
torn bloody from your what
And she found it
I cannot tell you
everything she told him
it was me they sought to stop
and another crudely
tied to my pointlessne
ss
lashed into its place
the existential
joys
Me and the others of
It - Is - Not - What - It - Is
of truly becoming
Our Great Twisting
The-Worker-
of-Clay had laboured
To become him
Of an entireness finally
for decades on that contorted
impossible edifice of doors
crossing the threshold
stairs and falsehoods and smiles
A thousand staring morsels stood
