Man’s a compaction of coincidence,
A conduit and repository of experience,
Whose intermingling and alchemy
Concocts the dominative psyche
Ventriloquizing and puppeteering man,
Who does not have a body but is a body,
Neglecting those constituents that grow moribund
But never die,
Always pending in an insidious sessility,
Which is but the inaction of the set snare,
Eventuating a recrudescence unbeknownst to the sufferer –
Just then –
And errant beam of sunlight through a window grate unclosed
Pierced my eyehole, staining my vision with its amber hue,
And forever distracting me from finishing whatever futile task
I had been performing –
Forever to distract me from something
And never closer to something else.

-Poyetikos