cotardtheliving:

I favor
myself a
specious
presence,

from the
logic
exempt I
am choking
smoking
the

paradox
that fills
my mouth

here
nor there
am I
neither

either but
somewhere,
in the
ether the
echo emitted

from the
beating of
a moth’s
wings, eons

off in the
foreground,
forewarned
for I am

terrible and
in a mirror
where I
see myself
only,
intangible
holy and

dripping
blood from
this heart-
felt sleeve.