the cracked thistle
βIf I am, I am but lightly.β - Beckett
the testimony is the body.
a failing precision i have no further
to witness. i am already
what is left of tomorrow.
i leak this intolerable
lucidity, and forget whose eyes i am
seeing through. like the milk
of the cracked thistle, i invented
blood to give the heart a serpent
it can not see. i invented roots
and the smell of the cut grass. see
i still remember how that crescent moon sits
inside my mouth, turning up the edges,
feeding me a half-dark light.



Emotional read:
This reads like dissociation. Not able to connect.
General read: identity loss
βIntolerable lucidityβ
& the grim nourishment of swallowing the cosmos whole.